


Woolf and Lamb

by MerrickGreen



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ issues, Meta, Mystery, Referential Humor, Strong Female Protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 02:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20268193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerrickGreen/pseuds/MerrickGreen
Summary: A bully has been picking on kids at Neptune High School just in time to ruin the Spring Musical.  With nowhere else to turn, Al Hart looks to hard boiled high school PI Veronica Mars to do what you'd expect of any diminutive detective when a huge football player is barreling your way - be his bodyguard.  While tackling oversized linebackers, and counseling her lovelorn friends, Veronica is still in midst of trying to find the villain capable of killing a schoolbus full of kids, and has new clues that take a deeply personal turn for victim Peter Ferrer.This cross-genre novella is intended for anyone who enjoys a witty modern neo-noir.  Both newcomers to the Veronica Mars universe and devout marshmallows can appreciate this.As this novella occurs midway through the Veronica Mars tv series story arc, it is recommended that newcomers first try The Scarlet Liter, which occurs towards the beginning of the overall story, and decide from there whether to read other novellas that spoil plot points for the show.This novella takes place during season 2 between Episodes 2.17 Plan B and 2.18 I am God in the spring of 2006.





	1. Today's Outgoing Voicemail

**Author's Note:**

> This book is intended to be able to be enjoyed on a standalone basis. It is also, however, meant to tie in to the overall Veronica Mars story. For those newcomers, Veronica Mars was a TV show airing from 2004-2007 on UPN and the CW networks, following the exploits of a teenage PI. It is recommended that newcomers first read Veronica Mars The TV Series : The Scarlet Liter, which takes place earlier in the overall story arc of the show, and decide from there whether to read this story, which contains several spoilers for the show. 
> 
> The events of this novella take place during Season 2, between Episodes 2.17 Plan B and 2.18 I am God, in spring 2006.
> 
> The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this work are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
> 
> This book was originally published in the United States under the Kindle Worlds imprint from April 2018 through July 2018, at which time rights reverted to the author. If you paid for the novella at that time and would like a refund because it has been added to AO3, please contact the author at Merrick Green Author (all one word) at gmail.com with a copy of the receipt.

Today’s Outgoing Voicemail  
“If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.”  
– Virginia Woolf

“If you are not personally free to be yourself in that most important of all human activities... the expression of love... then life itself loses its meaning.”   
– Harvey Milk


	2. Chapter 2

Veronica Mars strode confidently down the halls of Neptune High School, her calm face betraying none of the trepidation she felt on her way the Principal’s office. Veronica’s straight blond hair lay just past her shoulders, the back trailing the diminutive 18-year-old detective like a flag in a light breeze as she trod towards now-Principal Clemmons’ office.  
Veronica scoped the hallways with her crystal blue eyes as she walked to her fate, and was still surprised by the occasional congenial greeting. It had been almost a year since her father’s vindication, and Veronica’s tacit readmission into Neptune’s polite society. Veronica still found it unusual to have lost some of her pariah status senior year. A goth girl whom Veronica had helped last year gave Veronica a brief wave in friendly greeting. Veronica’s best friend, Wallace Fennel, greeted her with an enthusiastic manly head nod. The normally exuberant black teen’s eyes still held distant pain from breaking up with Jane at the end of the previous week, though some of the sorrow may be from Jackie Cook’s summary rejection when he had tried going straight from one girl to the other. Right now the brightest thing about Wallace was the matte copper stud peeking out his right ear, framed by his frizzy hair and barely catching the institutional Neptune High lighting. The winner for teen angst, however, had to go to Logan Echolls, still looking a little shellshocked from Hannah Griffith getting sent off to Vermont. It’s amazing how many people get shipped out of Neptune High - it was a miracle that anybody stuck around at all. Logan was still dealing with the unexpected breakup - even getting to blow up a baseball stadium last week hadn’t managed to cheer the boy up. The emotional trauma didn’t dull the cocksure grin Logan shot in Veronica’s direction as she passed. For maybe the first time two and a half years, Veronica and Logan were just friends again, having jumped back and forth between implacable foes, to dating, and then back again. Veronica tried not to think of the dance they shared at the Spring Fling, and gave her erstwhile ex-boyfriend a small nod in acknowledgment.  
Veronica tried to think what transgression Principal Clemmons might be calling her in for: he had already confiscated the only set of keys she had to his office last semester - at least the only set he knew about; she had cleared her name of the Winter Festival cash box robbery over a month ago; Veronica’s ongoing search for who had bombed the journalism school bus at the beginning of the year hadn’t required her to break any school rules (lately); and covertly taping the Fitzpatricks trafficking drugs in the church was a bit beyond Clemmons’ jurisdiction. As far as Clemmons knew, Veronica should have been a well-behaved model student. So, it might be another case of Veronica being one of Neptune’s favorite scapegoats.  
Walking into Clemmons’ office, she saw the Principal sitting behind the desk, his seated position concealing his towering height and affording Veronica a better view of the beleaguered Principal’s basset-hound expression. The Principal continued to wear an off-the-rack suit to school every day, setting him apart from the teachers, but without the flash and political veneer that former principal Moorehead had exuded. Clemmons also seemed to genuinely care about the students and, to Veronica’s knowledge, hadn’t had sex with any of them, so that was two more steps above Moorehead.  
“So, Principal Clemmons – to what do I owe the honor of this invitation?”  
Clemmons looked up from his voluminous paperwork, and indicated the chair on the other side of the desk. “Miss Mars – so glad you could join me. Please – close the door and have a seat.” After Veronica was sitting across the desk from Principal Clemmons, he continued. “Do you, by any chance, know the whereabouts of Eduardo ‘Thumper’ Orozco?”  
“You mean he’s not in the forest with Bambi and Flower?” Veronica asked innocently.  
“Sheriff Lamb called me earlier today,” Clemmons stated, somehow conveying concern through his official flat affect. “He said that Thumper had been missing for several days, and that there was an outstanding warrant for his arrest. And that you were somehow involved.”  
“So, what, a couple months ago it was stealing, last year it was fake IDs – this time you think I killed a guy? Am I Chuck Barris now?” Veronica asked.  
“No, but you are ... remarkably well informed,” Clemmons responded. “And the other PCHers are stonewalling me. Which is unusual. Most times they make up weak excuses for each other; this silence is ... disconcerting. I’m worried. Sheriff Lamb will follow whatever police procedures are necessary, but one of the students in my care is inexplicably absent. I was hoping you might be able to help make sure he turns up safely.”  
Veronica thought for a moment before deciding that Clemmons was on the level – he was just trying to look out for his students. Veronica could share what she knew - not that it would help. “Thumper killed Felix Toombs over the summer. I found a reputable witness that had Thumper dead to rights. If Thumper was arrested he was almost certain to roll over on the Fitzpatrick gang, so either he ran away, or the Fitzpatricks tied up a loose end before it could bite them. I’m sorry; I don’t expect Thumper will be coming back to school.” This was all true, but Veronica felt no need to add that her friend Eli “Weevil” Navarro had also been gunning hard for Thumper all last week. She hoped that Thumper had run before Weevil, or even the Fitzpatricks, had caught him, but Thumper was definitely gone either way.  
Principal Clemmons’ normally longsuffering visage looked just a bit sadder. He obviously felt like Thumper’s disappearance was a failure on his part. “Thank you, Miss Mars. I’d hoped for better news, and that’s really something that Sheriff Lamb should have shared with me, but I appreciate your help.”  
“Yeah,” Veronica added philosophically, “if there’s one thing Sheriff Lamb is good at, it’s shirking responsibility.”

…

Stepping out of Principal Clemmons’ office and into the hallway, Veronica was blindsided. She managed to catch a flash of fair skin and brunette hair before the oncoming girl plowed into Veronica, sending them both tumbling to the floor with a surprised “oomph!”  
Picking herself up and brushing herself off, Veronica looked at the careless student and saw the familiar oval face of her friend, Cindy “Mac” Mackenzie. Veronica offered a hand to her normally careful and sardonic friend – Mac flushed in embarrassment and accepted the blond girl’s outstretched arm as she lifted herself up.  
“Well, I guess now I know what it’s like to be hit by a Mac truck,” Veronica commented wryly. “Everything ok? I haven’t seen you since Friday.”  
Mac’s voice quavered nervously as she looked down at her feet, answering Veronica’s question. “Yeah, sorry. Just distracted is all.” Veronica took in the drooped look under Mac’s eyes – Mac was known to pull all-nighters working on one computer project or another, but this seemed different somehow. Mac looked pretty upset, and not just overtired.  
“Hey, you look like you could use some non-vile food,” Veronica offered, concern in her voice. “How about we hop off campus for lunch for a change? I want to check out the new sub shop.” Trying to entice Mac, Veronica added, “I hear they have a fabulous falafel sandwich.”  
Mac mutely nodded her agreement. The lack of a sarcastic reply was a red flag – something was definitely up with Mac.

…

Once downtown, Veronica and Mac got out of Veronica’s creaky black LeBaron - it had been closer than Mac’s VW bug and Veronica didn’t entirely trust her friend to drive at the moment, if walking down the hallway was a challenge. In front of the ladies was a small shop; an oversized sign depicting an old metal-riveted submarine, periscope unrealistically extended while underwater, dominated the front of the store. Underneath, the name proclaimed “The Neptune Factor,” and, in smaller letters, “sub shop.” Walking into the store, the underwater theme was carried onto the wall design, but not to the white drop-tile ceiling or fluorescent lighting, which matched the antiseptic cleanliness one would find in any chain sandwich shop. After the ladies had ordered their sandwiches, a falafel sandwich and an Italian hero, they sat at a table underneath a signed portrait of Ernest Borgnine to eat. Veronica was saving up money for college, so it was a rare treat to eat out someplace other than Java the Hut, where she worked. Veronica savored the delicious sandwich.  
“So,” Veronica asked, “what’s going on? I haven’t seen you this distraught in a while.”  
“It’s Cassidy,” Mac said morosely. “When I mentioned that I had come to you about the … problems, he freaked out. I’ve never seen him so angry – not even at the awful stuff his brother says to him. He … we … broke up.”  
“That seems to be going around,” Veronica commiserated. Her own boyfriend, Duncan, had fled the country a few months previous, though it was hard to fault a man for wanting to take care of his daughter. They say girls are always looking to date their father, and Veronica could easily see Keith Mars committing a felony to keep her safe – she could hardly blame Duncan Kane for doing the same. But really, everyone did seem to be getting single - Wallace and Logan had each gotten their hearts broken recently. Even Keith was unattached since he had split with Wallace’s mom before Wallace’s trip to Chicago.  
“The worst part is …” Mac flagellated, “it’s all my fault. I did something wrong. I knew how sensitive he is about sex stuff, and talking about it, but I went to you with it anyway. I appreciate the advice you gave, but, I can’t help but feel like I betrayed his trust.”  
Veronica’s heart fell – she knew all too well what it felt like to blame yourself for causing hurt to the people you cared about. For the longest time, Veronica had blamed herself for the death of her best friend, Lilly Kane, early during sophomore year, and for what had happened at Shelley Pomroy’s party later that year. Veronica still blamed herself for the death of Meg Manning on the journalism bus at the beginning of this year – if not for Veronica’s presence, Meg would have taken the limo with the rich kids and never would have been on that bus. The best way Veronica had found to get past the self-flogging was to confront her fears with knowledge, to look at them in the light of cold truth and dispel the misconception that everything was her fault.  
“Mac, look, you did the best you could,” Veronica consoled. “You wanted to make it work, and you needed someone to talk to. And next time, you’ll be better at talking to the person you’re with about issues. It’s something we’re all working on. If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re awesome. Were I an unwed fella, I would take you in manly fashion.”   
This last line brought out a humorous snort from Mac, showing a crack in her melancholy.   
“Because I’m pretty?” Mac asked.  
“Because you’re pretty … fly,” Veronica replied, with a flourish on the last word.  
“Thanks, Veronica,” Mac said sadly. “I appreciate the support. It’ll just take me some time to get over ... this.”  
“Anytime, Mac,” Veronica answered. The two women enjoyed their meal together, Mac crunching into the falafel when Veronica picked up the thread of conversation. “Speaking of looking for love in all the wrong places, I was hoping you could help me out with some of the Pirates SHIP postings.”  
With her mouth full of deep-fried chickpea, Mac just gave Veronica a skeptical look. She had provided the teen detective with printouts from the Pirates SHIP – the Neptune High underground gay message board site - as part of a case a few months ago. Mac had refused to dox any of its members, or give Veronica access to the site itself, out of respect for the SHIPpers’ privacy.  
“I’ve been looking through Peter Ferrer‘s posts and private messages, trying to figure out if it might have clues to the bombing and bus crash that killed Peter, Meg Manning and the other four kids,” Veronica explained. “Peter said he was going to have the ‘outing of all outings in Neptune.’ I’m wondering if someone might have wanted to prevent that bad enough to kill a busload of kids. He also had some private messages with someone who never posted publicly, username ‘DirtyMartini.’ Martini only messaged Peter, and hasn’t been active since Peter died. I know you need to respect the SHIPpers’ privacy, but this person might know why all those kids died. Is there any chance you could tell me who it is?”  
Mac looked at Veronica sadly as she thought about it, surprising Veronica when she agreed. Mac had been very serious about safeguarding the SHIPpers’ secrecy. “Yeah,” Mac conceded grudgingly. “Ryan seems to trust you, and that one I can give you. DirtyMartini isn’t going to care at this point - it’s Marcos Oliveres. He died in the bus crash, too.”

...

Veronica walked with Mac back towards the Neptune High campus from the parking lot, content after a delectable meal that hadn’t been served by Mary “Lunch Lady” Mooney. Not that it was Mary’s fault school food was terrible. More importantly, Mac seemed a bit more even-keeled than she had before their impromptu sojourn for sustenance. The only sour note was that Veronica’s latest lead in pursuing the bus bomber had been another dead end.  
As the ladies tromped up the stairs towards school, Veronica couldn’t fail to notice a tall, dark-haired jock in a football letterman jacket, his tanned face red from laughing loudly at his own inappropriate jokes. Next to the lupine footballer was another jock, this one with a buzz cut and a familiar swarthy face - Kelvin Moore, a linebacker Veronica had helped out in the beginning of the year. Near the two jocks was a small sophomore, wavy brown hair over fair features - the undersized underclassman was hunched over, eyes downcast with occasional furtive gazes looking for a quick escape.  
“Little gay Al!” the laughing jock mocked, his wild mane in the wind. “I hear you like to sing - how about you follow the bouncing balls?” he brayed, cupping his crotch and giving a firm shake.   
Kelvin, never one to shy away from ridiculing the small and the helpless, laughed along with his teammate. As Veronica walked onto campus, and was greeted by this sad little scene, she thought to herself that it was none of her business. 

Then again, that had never stopped her before.

Changing directions slightly, Veronica broke off from Mac and stormed directly towards the two jocks and the tortured teen. Her face was dark as a thundercloud, and her hand clutched lightning as she prepped the stun gun in her messenger bag. Seeing the investigator making her way towards them, Kelvin smacked his teammate hard on the shoulder to get his attention.  
“Hey! Woolf! C’mon, let’s go,” the linebacker urged. “We’re gonna be late.”  
Woolf’s pack retreated back onto campus, melting away from Veronica’s impending arrival. Kelvin may be a bully and kind of a jerk, but at least he had the sense to avoid confrontation with Veronica Mars.  
Veronica switched off the stun gun as she approached the underclassman. As she got closer, she could see his eyes were the color of fractured jade, the left one showing vestiges of bruising under flesh-toned foundation. The oldest and saddest use for makeup - covering a black eye.  
“Hey, Al is it?” Veronica asked sympathetically. “Everything ok?”  
Al looked at Veronica, immediately unclenching and standing up to his full height. He was far below average height for a guy, barely taller than Mac, but still had several inches on the petite but imposing Veronica Mars.  
“Yeah, Al Hart,” the boy replied. Appropriating the line from the South Park character he had just been mocked with, Al answered with a voice full of derision and scorn, “I’m super, thanks for asking.”  
“Wow, ok then,” Veronica responded angrily herself, showing little patience with the boy’s ingratitude. “I just wanted to check that Kelvin Moore and his buddy weren’t bugging you too much, but it sounds like you’ve got everything covered. Next time I’ll just get to class on time.”  
Veronica turned on her heels and started to walk back towards the classrooms - Mac had already vanished to make it to class timely. Al let out a loud exhale as Veronica took her first steps. “I’m sorry!” the short boy exclaimed, getting Veronica to stop in her tracks. “I do appreciate you helping out. And I’m sorry I was a jerk about it. Dan Woolf has been making my life hell, and... it’s ... it’s been rough. I’m glad you chased him off. Thank you.”  
“What’s the deal with you and Woolf?” Veronica asked after turning back around.  
“Y’know, the usual,” the slight boy explained in an attempt at a friendly voice. Though Al’s speech was still tinged with derision, it was obviously not directed at Veronica. “He’s an alpha male and can get away with it. 3-year-olds get fixated with policing gender roles and some people never grow out of it - Woolf is one of them. He does it because he can. The harassment has been going on a while, but getting beat up is ... a recent phenomenon.”  
“Have you gone to Clemmons about this?” Veronica solicited. “He’s not bad, for a suit. I think he really cares.”  
“I tried reporting him!” Hart exclaimed. “How do you think I got a black eye? Woolf’s dad is some rich bigwig working at VW headquarters in Germany – bought his son out of trouble before it even started. The only good thing in my life right now is the Spring Musical, and if Woolf gives me another obvious injury, I might not be able to do it.” Looking at Veronica pensively, the underclassman made a desperate plea, “I hear you’re, like, a PI. Is there any chance you could keep him off my back until after the musical is over?”  
Veronica looked at the forlorn boy uncertainly. She was already loaded beyond busy: trying to keep her top GPA to get the Kane Scholarship and actually afford college, finding the person who killed Meg Manning and a bus full of kids, and testifying against the murdering scum who had killed Lilly Kane, her best friend. Being a bodyguard, while technically within a PI’s purview, was extremely time consuming and not a strong point for the 5’1 slender blond girl. She wasn’t winning any toe-to-toe fights with linebackers.  
“You have no idea what it’s like to be out in high school,” Al breathed, weary and hurt, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s horrible. I want to kill myself.”  
Veronica took in the slight boy, the pouchy bruised remains of a two-day-old black eye buried under concealer, the thin frame practically trembling as the skittish sophomore looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, his shoulders hunched under more than just the burden of his backpack, as if Atlas alone could bear the weight of the social stigma Al was suffering.  
Veronica sighed, and answered slowly and with a hint of sympathy. “Let me guess? Almost all of your friends have turned on you, like you’re some weird freak that they can’t stand anymore? You’re harassed constantly for something that you are, and have no way of changing. You’re certain you’ll never date, but that’s the least of your worries. Random guys think it’s funny to make sexually inappropriate jokes that are not only awkward, but cause you physical pain with how badly they hurt. Graffiti on your locker all the time. Drawings. Pantomiming blowjobs. This entire thing has defined your life and ruined it. And there’s one or two people, worse than the rest, who shovel more shit on top of the shit sandwich you already have, and shove it down your throat so that you choke on the nauseating excrescence to the point where you just can’t take it?”  
Al stared at Veronica in mute horror and silent agreement as she described the aggrieved underclassman’s life perfectly. Veronica knew that story a little too well - she’d lived it for over a year, and even with her father’s redemption she was still putting together the pieces of her broken life.  
“Fine, I’ll help,” Veronica said. Veronica may be beyond busy, but this was important. Veronica continued, “but we do this my way. I’ll shuttle you around for a bit, make sure you’re not bothered at lunch, but we need to go after Woolf and put a stop to this. Permanently.”  
Al stared at Veronica with naked hope in his eyes, but his tone still uncertainly sarcastic. Maybe he had a speech impediment – almost everything he said was tinged sardonic. He’d get along great with Mac. “Really? You’ll help me fight the unbeatable foe, to bear with unbearable sorrow?”  
“Wow, a little over dramatic much, Mr. La Mancha,” Veronica replied. “I don’t think a high school bully counts as an unbeatable foe, but I’ll get Woolf off your tail.”  
“Really?” He asked, still disbelieving. “Thank you! I just got so ... used to it. I thought this was something to I had to live with. I never even thought it would get better. And I’m sorry for the hyperbole - a large component of my personality is snark and musical theater references.”  
Veronica smiled in return. “Al,” Veronica said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”


	3. Chapter 3

Veronica Mars dashed through the emptying school, making her way from the administration office towards the front parking lot. She made it to the school entrance in time to see the familiar yellow afternoon buses still loading up students eager to leave. One student, a burly bald tattooed Latino boy, stood out from the crowd - Eli “Weevil” Navarro. He had been stuck taking the bus ever since his motorcycle had gotten “misplaced” a few weeks ago. Completely coincidentally, it had been when Thumper took over the PCH motorcycle gang and Weevil had been kicked out. Based on the bruises Weevil had sported that week, the PCHers had taken their kicking literally. Today, though, the bus-bound former gang member did not look defeated as he flashed his easy smile, joking with the younger students - his bearing triumphant despite his mode of transit. Thumper’s disappearance last week seemed to suit Weevil just fine.  
As the blond girl approached the school entrance she was overcome with a feeling of deja vu - off to one side she saw the back of a tall figure wearing a Neptune varsity jacket, his dark hair slightly shaggy and his broad shoulders nearly blocking a smaller figure from view. Woolf was harassing Al Hart again, same as just after lunch, the shadow of the large boy encroaching the distance to the theater buff and swallowing his slight figure in uncommon darkness. Looking around, Veronica saw an oblivious Clemmons far down the parking lot, still dealing with loading students on the buses - Woolf had a bully’s instincts in finding the perfect cul-de-sac to savage his victim out of sight of any authority figure. Unfortunately for Dan Woolf, keeping Al cornered meant he had his back to the rest of the school, including Veronica.  
Veronica didn’t need to be particularly stealthy as she snuck up behind Woolf. The commotion of school letting out prevented Veronica from hearing the interaction between Hart and Woolf, but gave her plenty of cover as she reached, past a newly purloined folder, into her messenger bag to ready her stun gun. Feeling the comforting subsonic whine of the fully charged device, Veronica thrust the handheld stunner at the small of Woolf’s back, actinic fingers stretching forth from the metal contacts, leading the way to the exposed skin between Woolf’s jacket and jeans. The charge caught the bullying lineman behind the kidneys, seizing his muscles and dropping him instantly with an audible *glurk* - Mr. Zappy was all the more effective for having caught Woolf unawares.   
Al stared wide-eyed at the still-charged stun gun, arcing blue thunder between its inimical fangs. “Are you even allowed to have that thing at school?!”  
“Things are going to go a lot more smoothly if you don’t overly concern yourself with what’s ‘allowed’,” Veronica replied. “What Principal Clemmons doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. And will hopefully keep you from getting hurt too, until we can figure out a more permanent fix. C’mon, I’m late for work - let’s go.”

...

Veronica brought a cup of steaming Oolong tea to a shadowed corner at Java the Hut, Al Hart waiting at the isolated table. Technically Veronica was the hostess, not a server, but the Hut was chronically short-staffed. Something about a coffee house that regularly hosts karaoke seemed to lead to high staff turnover. As some talentless hack attempted the 50-zillionth amateur off-key rendition of “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” Veronica had a hard time discerning just why that might be. Fortunately, early afternoon on a Monday was relatively empty, with a smattering of Veronica’s classmates and some folks who didn’t work traditional hours. Veronica looked around to make sure everyone looked happy, then sat at Al’s table, making Wild Bill proud and taking the seat with her back to the wall. Veronica had a straight view to the front entrance, in case a new customer came in.  
“Any interesting reading?” Veronica asked, indicating the folder she had stolen from Principal Clemmons’ office. The spare set of keys had come in handy, and Clemmons always left his office unattended during school dismissal while he oversaw the chaos of everyone leaving. It had been the perfect opportunity to steal Dan Woolf’s permanent record before her rendezvous with Al.  
“Dan White Woolf,” Al reported with his sardonic tinge. “Lives at 116 Isaiah Place with his mom - parents divorced. Mediocre grades, but glowing recommendations from the coaches - he’s gotten detention a bunch for bullying other kids, but no suspensions and nothing that stuck.”  
“Any horrific secrets in there we can use to get him to leave you alone?” Veronica asked. “Ever shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die?”  
“No,” Al responded, disappointed. “He’s just a normal kid. A normal kid that makes my life hell, but a normal kid. If you’re looking for the next John Lotter or Tom Nissen, there’s nothing in here that shows it.”  
“Here, let me see that,” Veronica requested, flipping through Woolf’s file herself. Al had summarized it pretty well – the only evil was pretty banal. Veronica did recognize a name in the file, and shot a text, hoping it could lead to some more information.  
“So, tell me what the guy is like,” Veronica bade. “What’s he making fun of you for? What does he seem interested in? Who does he hang out with?”  
“How’s that going to help?” Al asked.  
“If you want my help, I need more information,” Veronica rebuked. “We want this guy to stop harassing you and beating you up? Then we need a plan. What do you want me to do - chloroform Woolf and leave him next to an underlined copy of Moby Dick and a bottled water, so everyone thinks he’s gay? That stuff doesn’t work outside the movies. We need to know what makes him tick and get leverage. So, what do you know about him?”  
“No much, I guess,” Al responded sullenly. “He makes fun of me for being small, and gay, and liking theater. I know I take it personally, but he doesn’t seem especially invested in making my life miserable in particular – I’m just an easy target. He’s sometimes with someone from the football team – he seems pretty tight with them – I’ve never seen him hanging around with anyone else.”  
As Al provided his assessment, the strident chords of Def Leopard blissfully came to a close on the speakers, the karaoke DJ announcing the next contestant. “Thank you, Lars. Al? Next up we have Al.”   
“That’s my cue,” Al said, getting up to go to the stage. “I figured, if they’ve got the machine, I may as well take advantage, right?”  
“Dare I ask what you’re doing?” Veronica enquired curiously.  
The underclassman gave a mischievous grin, for the first time looking completely confident and in his element. “You’ll see soon enough.”  
“Anything’s got to be better than wish-I-were-deaf Leopard,” Veronica rejoined, packing up Dan Woolf’s file and making her way to bus a recently-vacated table.   
Al made his introductory remarks and intro music began to play as Veronica cleared the table and brought the empty plates to the kitchen in back. “This song is dedicated to Veronica Mars,” Al announced. “Thank you.”  
As a clear soprano began the opening strains, Veronica quickly ducked back out of the kitchen to verify who was on stage, disbelief that it was Al singing writ clearly on her face.

“If I should stay  
I would only be in your way  
So I'll go but I know  
I'll think of you every step of the way”

Al Hart’s voice was evocative. Clear and powerful, though not quite containing Whitney Houston’s sultriness. And when it came to belting out the trademark “And I-I-I-I-I-I will always love you”, a commanding, clear, pitch-perfect high soprano launched from the mouth of the short, male underclassman. Veronica made her way, dumbfounded, to the hostess counter, staring at Hart throughout the performance. Even as the last notes died down and Al received resounding applause from the few diners in the shop, Veronica was still paying rapt attention to the singer as a new patron tapped her shoulder to get her attention.  
Veronica turned to greet the new customer, a sophomore boy at her school with mousy brown hair, close cropped but a little spiky. Justin Smith had grown significantly since Veronica had taken a case to track down his dad a year-and-a-half ago, and the boy was no longer pint-sized. Justin towered over Veronica at somewhere around 5’9, and looked to still be growing. He wore a white button-down shirt left open, with a black t-shirt underneath, a wide leather belt around his waist over the blue jeans.  
“Hey, you sent a text?” Justin asked.  
“Yeah, I just took a case and I thought you might have some insight. Here, I’ll introduce you to the client,” Veronica said, leading the way back to Al’s table. Veronica introduced the recently returned Al to Justin, “Al, this is Justin Smith, a friend and another of Dan Woolf’s onetime bullying victims. He works at the video store down the street. Justin, this is my long-lost pal and new client – you can call him Al.” Veronica said this last with a hint of playfulness and question in her eye, directed at the sophomore singing sensation.  
Al laughed heartily. “Sure thing, Betty – if you’ll be my bodyguard, I can be your long-lost pal.”  
“You’ve been holding out on me, pal,” Veronica commented. “That was quite the song there. Not to get too personal, but did they take off a little too much at the circumcision?”  
Al laughed again, taking the jest in good humor. “No, everything’s intact, thank you very much. I’m a sopranist, and I work damn hard at it. I’m glad to hear the secret for the musical isn’t out of the bag yet – we’re doing Chicago this year, and I’m playing Mary Sunshine. We’ve been trying to keep it under wraps until the show to safeguard the big reveal – anyone who’s only seen the movie is in for a big surprise.”  
“Yeah, well, they have it coming, they only have themselves to blame,” Veronica smiled. “I’ll let you two get acquainted and check on the other customers quick. Justin, can I get you something to drink? On the house.”  
Justin thought a moment, looking at the chalkboard menu, saying, “yeah, I’ll take an Irish Coffee.”  
“Ok, I’ll be back in a bit to check in on you and Idina Menzel here,” Veronica said, before making a round of the shop, straightening up and checking on people. Veronica went to the coffee machine and prepared a latte with a shot of Irish Crème syrup for Justin, bringing the steaming cup to the table where the two boys were talking.  
“Here ya go!” Veronica chirped, serving Justin his coffee before joining the underclassmen. The shop was pretty slow, so she should have some time to chat with Justin for information.  
“I saw that Dan Woolf had gotten detention for bullying you,” Veronica mentioned. “I was wondering if you could give me any details. What makes you think he picked you? I’m hoping to figure out a pattern to how he operates or who he works with.”  
“Well,” the spiky-haired boy started. “This happened last year, before I hit a big growth spurt. I think he was just picking on me because I was small – he didn’t even mention anything about my dad, and I don’t think anyone at school knows about her, aside from you.” Veronica and Justin had both been pretty shocked to discover that Justin’s long-deceased father was alive and well - and living as a woman named Julia in San Diego. Veronica had since seen Julia in Justin’s video store on a number of occasions, and had been gratified to see they were figuring out a way to be in each other’s lives.  
“Woolf just pushed me around a bit,” Justin continued. “Said some mean stuff. One of the teachers saw him doing it once and hit him with detention. After I got taller, he basically ignored me and, I guess, pretended like it had never happened.”  
“Hmm… not much to go on there,” Veronica said. “Anything else you can think of?”  
“Well, it’s not about him being a bully, exactly, but he’s got a twisted taste in movies,” Justin said with a distasteful turn to his mouth. “I mean, a lot of kids rent Basic Instinct – that’s pretty standard. But this guy picked up Secretary a few times, and has practically worn out our copy of Bitter Moon.”  
Veronica repressed a wince, keeping her face professional in front of the boys. “Thanks, Justin,” Veronica said. “That’s actually really helpful.”  
“It is?” Al asked uncertainly. “How?”  
“I know where I need to go next,” Veronica answered.  
Into the Woolf’s den.


	4. Chapter 4

Veronica Mars sat behind the wheel of her parked car, telephoto camera at the ready. The legendary black LeBaron blended into the inky night, parked in the driveway at 109 Isaiah Place. The empty house, slightly down the street from Dan Woolf’s residence, still had the Sunday paper on the front step, along with today’s offering. People really needed to remember to suspend newspaper delivery when they went on vacation - it was just an invitation for thieves otherwise. Veronica didn’t think the vacationers would terribly mind her borrowing the driveway to surreptitiously scope out the Woolf household.  
Dan Woolf and his mother, Elizabeth, lived in a nice 3-story house that probably would be considered a mansion in a town that had fewer billionaire/movie star-style estates. It was still a pretty nice house, and the jet-black brand new VW Phaeton in the driveway was in keeping with the upscale image. The limo-esque car appeared to belong to Elizabeth, who was in the house - Veronica had seen neither hide nor hair of Woolf himself. Although Veronica wasn’t afforded a perfect view from her vantage, she had seen Momma Woolf watch TV in what appeared to be a living room, and fix herself a couple drinks at a bar in a rec room - it didn’t look like Elizabeth was planning on going anywhere in the foreseeable future.  
Veronica heard the approaching rattle of a car engine, and slunk down in her seat to be less obtrusive while simultaneously arching her neck, curious who was coming down the lazy street. Veronica was not, however, greeted by the sight of another high end VW, but instead by a beat-up dark green Balboa County Sheriff’s cruiser. Cursing under her breath, Veronica slouched even lower, hoping to avoid detection. Fortunately for her, most deputies were pretty unobservant, especially now that Deputy D’Amato, one of the good ones, had left.  
Veronica watched nervously as the police car glacially passed her by, slowly pulling into the Woolf’s driveway. Veronica’s anxiety at the situation increased exponentially - what connection did Dan Woolf have to local law enforcement? If Woolf was getting cover from the local kakistocracy, it would make Veronica’s job that much harder.  
As the beige-with-olive-trim-uniformed figure stepped out of the car, Veronica realized she hadn’t been passed by a lowly unobservant deputy, but by the high lord almighty of egotistical obliviousness himself, Sheriff Don Lamb. Still slightly tanned from his annual marlin fishing trip a few weeks back, the Keystone Cock swaggered up to the Woolf’s front door.   
“Twice I see you within a week, Sheriff Lamb, what did I do to deserve this?” Veronica asked herself. She had gift-wrapped a case against Thumper for Lamb on Friday, and he still hadn’t managed to find the gang leader. The poster child for the Peter Principle looked practically the same as he had in his office three days ago, close-cropped brown hair giving way to a perpetually clenched strong jawline and the intense, slightly pissed-off look that was almost omnipresent on Lamb - like staring angrily at people would get Don everything he wanted in life. The only difference was the leering smirk on Lamb’s stupid face. Veronica might have some issues with the head of Neptune law enforcement, especially since he had ignored her when she reported being raped.  
From her reaction answering the door, it seemed like Elizabeth Woolf and Lamb were about to engage in entirely more consensual relations, though for the life of her, Veronica couldn’t see why Elizabeth would do it. Veronica was saved a traumatic mental image by the fact that Elizabeth’s bedroom seemed to be in the rear of the house, but the stakeout had already been partially successful. When Lamb had come to reside with the Woolf, Elizabeth had punched in a security code after closing the door. Veronica took the opportunity they left with their certain distraction to place one of her dad’s more sophisticated A/V bugs high on a front window of Woolf’s house, with a view toward the security keypad. Veronica hurried as best she could - if Elizabeth was having houseguests, then Dan Woolf probably wasn’t returning imminently, but Veronica didn’t put much faith in the Sheriff’s stamina or sense of the romantic. Breaking into houses was difficult and somewhat illegal – Veronica needed to do the prepwork and hoped that the payoff in Dan Woolf’s room would give her something to keep the bully from continuing to beat Hart.  
Veronica took out her laptop and checked to make sure the feed from the bug was clear, showing the security panel. Veronica, killing time, then pulled up scanned versions of the Pirates SHIP message board printouts she had gotten from Mac. Despite the dead end with the Peter Ferrer/Marcos Oliveres messages, Veronica was still hoping to figure out whether Pete Ferrer had done something to instigate the death of eight people. Maybe nine deaths if you included Curly Moran, who had died a few days later, after holding vigil at the bus crash site.  
Peter and Marcos’ private messages had a much more sincere tenor than Peter’s brash public posts. The two apparently knew each other, they were both juniors – Marcos in videojournalism and Peter on the newspaper - and both were coping with their sexuality. Normally Veronica didn’t mind invading people’s privacy where necessary, but even she felt awkward reading the intimate details of the boys’ minds. Seeing as how they were both dead and Veronica was trying to catch the bastard who did it, she thought they would be ok with it.  
Most of the personal messages between Marcos and Peter involved being caught in the middle. Marcos was undecided in his sexuality and Peter was apparently ambisextrous. In public life he had played it straight, but Peter’s over-the-top outness on the gay message boards also involved some posturing to hide his bisexuality. Apparently bisexuals weren’t accepted even within the already-marginalized gay community, so this was something Peter had wanted to keep from the Neptune gay society at large. He had only discussed it with Marcos, who had been a kindred spirit, and then only privately.   
As Veronica re-read the messages between Peter and Marcos, Peter came across as a person given to crushes from afar on which he didn’t act, until giant dramatic moments that could end in flames. His public posts had recurring mentions to his ‘yellow fever,’ and how he was extremely hot for a certain teacher. No teachers (aside from journalism teacher Ms. Dumas) had easy access to the journalism bus – it was unlikely she had killed everyone including herself, so looking into that angle could wait until next week.  
More interesting, however, was Peter’s clandestine female inamorata, mentioned frequently in private messages. Veronica reread one message for maybe the 80th time, where Peter wrote to DirtyMartini last spring that “there’s a secret about her that would blow up this whole school.” Maybe when Peter had finally confronted his mystery woman with his feelings and her secret, it had gone down in more literal flames than usual. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much in the way of details, other than the fact that it had something to do with Peter’s after-school job.  
Veronica’s continued rereading was interrupted by the sound of Sheriff Lamb bellowing into his police call radio as he stood outside his open-doored cruiser. Veronica tried to tune out the sheriff’s diatribe and watched the video as Elizabeth Woolf typed in the security code after closing the door behind him. 1-1-followed by a number lower and further right, blocked by Elizabeth’s body, then another 1-1-blocked number.  
“Listen, Deputy Gurley,” Lamb snidely derided, saying the deputy’s name in an insulting falsetto. “If you have a problem following my orders, you can just pack the hell up. I don’t care what that human garbage or his garbage attorney says – Hector was the number two of the PCHers. If someone tipped off either Thumper or the Fitzpatricks about Thumper’s warrant, that guy knows it. You keep that snotnosed punk locked up as long as humanly possible until a judge pries him out of our cold dead hands, and when you let him out I want you to bust him for jaywalking on his way out the building. Hector doesn’t leave until he tells us something useful.” And in other news, the floggings will continue until morale improves at the Sheriff’s office. It’s no wonder Veronica didn’t recognize most of the deputy names at this point – Colonel Send-‘em-to-the-Klink Lamb-basted his employees almost as badly as he treated the civilians of Neptune.  
After Sheriff Lamb pulled away, Veronica stealthily slipped out of her black LeBaron and crept back to the Woolf’s manse, collecting the expensive electronic listening device from the front window. The diminutive detective snuck back to her car just in time, as the muscular rumbling of a sporty roadster presaged the appearance of a white Audi A8 vrooming into the suburban driveway at excessive speed. Dan Woolf popped out of his car and made his way inside, eventually ending up on a second floor, street-facing bedroom.  
Now Veronica Mars knew where he lived.


	5. Chapter 5

The stale high school lighting of Neptune High’s halls surrounded Veronica as she walked towards Kelvin Moore’s locker, hoping to catch him before classes started for the day. She was in luck as the swarthy buzz-cut linebacker was alone in front of his locker, and ready to do Veronica a favor. Well, he might not know about the favor part yet.  
“Moore, Moore, Moore - how do you like it?” Veronica greeted cheerfully.  
“I like it better when you leave me alone,” Kelvin answered in a surly tone.  
“Hey!” Veronica objected. “Last I checked, the only reason Jimmy Day got kicked off the football team and stuck with community service - instead of you - is because of yours truly! The way I figure, you owe me.”  
Kelvin sighed. “I thought you’d say something like that. Look, Danny is a good guy, and sometimes he gets carried away. We’ve talked to him about it, but unless he gets caught doing something really terrible, I don’t think it’ll change anything.”  
“You didn’t look like you were intervening too hard yesterday after lunch,” Veronica said darkly.  
“What can I say?” Kelvin whinged. “‘Follow the bouncing balls?’ That shit is funny!”  
“Not to the underclassman, it wasn’t. He seriously wants to kill himself,” Veronica reported flatly.  
Kelvin responded unsympathetically, “Yeah, well, I’ll give him the same advice I got-“   
“Teenage suicide - don’t do it?” Veronica asked, the final three words coming with a rapid singsong.  
“Ummm.. I was gonna say, ‘toughen up.’ ‘Boys don’t cry.’ But yeah, that’s the gist,” Kelvin answered obliviously.  
“Yeah, well, you owe me,” Veronica stated implacably. “And if it makes you feel any better, at the end of this you might even get a good laugh. What I need from you is to grab Woolf’s housekeys for a few hours and give me a window where you know he won’t be home.”  
“Oh man, you’re going to punk Danny Woolf? Classic!” Kelvin exclaimed, loyal as an earthworm. “He won’t be home tonight until late - we’re having a little mid-week par-tay. I can grab his keys during gym class, but you gotta get them back to me quick. Meet me at the tables right before lunch.”  
“Yeah, I can do that,” Veronica answered.  
“Hey, and one more thing - good luck getting past Mrs. Woolf. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her leave the house.”  
Veronica sighed. “Of course she doesn’t.”

…

Veronica Mars kept her back straight and her pace steady as she walked back on campus and towards the lunch tables, just before lunchtime. The small-statured sleuth walked confidently towards two large boys in varsity jackets, clutching a set of Danny Woolf’s housekeys in her palm and leading Al Hart behind her. A second, freshly blazed, set of keys was safe in her bag.  
“Cutting it close, Mars,” Kelvin announced with great volume and annoyance, as Veronica nonchalantly tossed him the keys. Kelvin shared a manly head nod with the other boy, apparently a cue to engage in some kind of intricate hand slapping ritual before Kelvin took off at full speed for the gym lockers to return Woolf’s keys before they were missed.  
Veronica examined the tables before settling on a particular one somewhat near the remaining boy, indicating Al should join her. Once seated, Veronica looked more closely at the new footballer- a blond-haired blue-eyed giant, at least six feet tall and with a possible career in underwear modeling, if football didn’t mess up his pretty looks. Al seemed to like what he saw too, and the slight singer cocked an appreciative eyebrow.  
The rawboned youth swaggered up to Veronica and Al, locking gazes with Veronica’s sapphire orisons. With great intensity he attempted a greeting. Or a come on. Or something. Whatever it was meant to be, it was certainly very earnest.  
“Veronica Mars, right? Y’know I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars. On a collision course. I am a satellite I'm out of control. I am a sex machine ready to reload. Like an atom bomb about to oh-oh-oh-explode!”   
Ever since Caz Truman had somehow finagled graduating sort-of-on-time over the summer, Troy Locke had acquired the reputation as the resident jock who would hit on anything with boobs. Veronica idly wondered if Troy would hit on a mannequin or a sexy lamp - he might not even notice the difference from a real woman.  
“A for effort, Troy,” Veronica responded, light and sweet, like a stiletto in silk. “D for originality, but B+ for choice of song - who told you Veronica Mars loved Freddy Mercury? But as much as I like Queen,” to which Al made an obsequious bow, pretending Veronica had actually referred to him, and then laughed at his own joke, “next time Bohemian Rhapsody is a better way into my heart. Hard to go wrong with gang wars and tragic endings. Anyway, I think I’m flying solo for the foreseeable future.”  
“I take it that’s a ‘no’ to seeing what happens when we collide?” Troy asked, disappointed.  
“Is sex all you think about, Troy?” Veronica asked.  
“When it comes down to it, it’s always about sex or money, and money bores me,” Troy tossed out offhandedly, as only a rich ‘09er could. Veronica could once again socialize with the elite class that lived in the tony 90909 zip code, but she felt the class divide pretty keenly some days.  
“You must get bored a lot, then,” Veronica rejoined. “What are you even doing here?”  
“I was here to back Kelvin up, in case Danny found out about the keys,” Troy replied honestly. “Either distract Danny so K-More could slip the keys in unnoticed, or just make sure any fight was real short. I know Danny and Kelvin can both be jerks sometimes, but I didn’t want to see either get hurt.”  
“Uhh, ok,” Veronica said, surprised at both the sincerity and the unexpected forethought.  
“Well, anyway, I’m gonna head off and get something to eat,” the Adonis-like athlete announced, getting up to leave. “Unless I can convince you to change your mind about going out sometime...?” Troy asked, leaving the open question hanging. The persistence might be flattering, if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was even more annoying - she’d literally just said no.  
“Quit while you’re ahead Troy,” Veronica suggested. “Go get some food.”  
Troy nodded and walked off into the bright midday courtyard. Once he was beyond earshot, Al Hart commented, “so - rebuffing the mighty Trolloc? You don’t have to go celibate just for me. I asked you to watch my back, not for me to be your chaperone.”  
“Trolloc?” Veronica asked curiously.  
“Blondie’s football nickname,” Al explained. “And, actually, not a very flattering one. For what it’s worth, Troy never joined Danny Woolf in anything.”  
“Oh. Well, don’t worry - I didn’t turn him down on your account,” Veronica placated. “I’m genuinely not interested. He’s not my type.”  
Al looked at Veronica, the middle of an eyebrow quivering ever so slightly in dubious uncertainty.  
“Admittedly, I’ve had bad experiences with boys named Troy,” Veronica confessed. “But Mr. Locke ... wants things to just go lock step in a straight line, with the inevitable conclusion. Not interested. Love is not a victory march.”  
“Hallelujah,” Al agreed.  
“Anyway, he’s not Duncan Kane, and that’s enough to be a ‘no’ right now,” Veronica sighed.  
“God, and people say I’m choosy,” Al commented. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a thing. So what’s our next step?”  
“Well, Danny Woolf is going to be out of the house tonight, but we still need to get Mrs. Woolf clear if I’m going to get access to Woolf’s room. I have a plan, but it’ll require a few people. How do you feel about spilling a lunch tray on Madison Sinclair?” Veronica asked.  
“That homophobic chancre?” Al asked, referring to how Madison had publicly humiliated Marlena a few weeks back, after Marlena had been unexpectedly outed. “Geez, I should have asked you for help weeks ago - who knew it would be so fun!”

...

Veronica was walking back towards Al and Wallace Fennel at the lunch table, loaded food tray in hand, when a dour raven-haired youth sitting by himself caught her attention. Making a detour, Veronica put her tray down next to Ryan Anderson, erstwhile pizza deliveryman and administrator of Neptune High’s underground gay message board, Pirates SHIP.  
“Hey Ryan. Everything SHIPshape?” Veronica queried, testing the water. She had helped him try to find a blackmailer who had stolen access to the message board a few weeks back. In the end, nobody had stolen a password - the culprit had been one of the SHIPpers.  
“Not really,” Ryan answered morosely. “That stunt Kylie pulled still has everyone on edge - nobody trusts each other anymore. Plus, we hear about shit like what Woolf does to Al over there, and it just scares us. Southern California isn’t middle-of-nowhere Wyoming, but stuff like that can’t help but make you think of Matthew Shepard. People are frightened, and I appreciate you helping out Al.” Taking a deep breath, Ryan continued, “Sorry, don’t mean to be melodramatic - things just kind of suck right now.”  
“Well, I was kind of hoping for your help on something, but I doubt it’ll make you feel any better,” Veronica sympathized. “How well do you know the SHIPpers that died in the bus crash?”  
“Peter and Marcos? Well, look, you know how I felt about Marcos - I could write his unauthorized biography. Considering how much time he spent on that pirate radio station, it would probably be called ‘Pirate Parts,’” Ryan chewed out about the deceased amateur shock jock, his mouth full of bitter rue. Ryan had previously said that he loved Marcos Oliveres, and that he blamed himself for Marcos’ death. Veronica could relate.  
“Marcos would put everything into that radio show - if you want to get to know him, that’s the best way,” Ryan continued. “As for Peter, yeah, I mean, I knew him. As much as anyone. He kind of kept to himself.”   
“Peter mentioned an after school job - do you know what it was?” Veronica solicited.   
“You might have seen him there a few times yourself, considering,” Ryan replied, still with a moue of distaste remaining from thinking about Marcos Oliveres’ death. “Peter Ferrer was a part-time bellhop at the Neptune Grand for the better part of two years. I bet he saw some crazy shit while he was there – you think that might have something to do with Marcos’ death?”  
“Maybe…” Veronica mentioned. “He only mentioned one thing, but it was apparently a big one. It involves a girl who goes to school here – any idea what that might be?”  
“Well, I don’t know if it means anything…” the bleak boy responded hesitantly. “A little over two years ago, right after the sheriff recall election, Peter just said that there were too many secrets in the world, and that it was impossible to know who to trust. At the time, I thought he meant about, well, this,” Ryan said, waving between himself and Al Hart sitting next Wallace at the distant table, implying the Neptune gay community. “If you’re saying he found out something big at the Grand, though, maybe it was back then.”  
“That’s a long time ago, and a lot of people come and go from the hotel,” Veronica pointed out. “Anything else you could tell me?”  
“Sorry, Veronica, that’s all I’ve got,” Ryan responded with a heavy tone. Veronica thanked him and left Ryan to his sad resignation, making her way back to the table with Al and Wallace. Mac had joined the two boys at the table, school-food filled lunchtray bringing the heartbroken woman no joy. Veronica’s friends weren’t at the usual isolated table Veronica had been consigned to last year, and were actually right next to the area customarily taken by the ‘09ers, but Veronica had chosen it for a reason.  
Veronica sat at the table with her friends, stealing a quick glance at Madison Sinclair’s back sitting at the adjacent table, and leaned in close to Mac. “Hey, thanks for coming,” Veronica said in a grateful conspiratorial whisper. “Wallace fill you in on the plan?”  
Mac looked around at the other teens at the table. Wallace Fennel, wearing a green-and-yellow track jacket and pants over his basketball practice outfit, bent forward, listening in with taut anticipation. Al Hart ate his lunch from a ridiculously overloaded tray. It was sloppy joe day. Al was slowly taking some final bites of food, despite leaving behind almost an entire sloppy joe and a lake of ketchup from the fries. Neither Wallace nor Al showed any signs of recent heartache or hardship with the expectant excitement. Mac nodded her agreement. “Yeah, but I think I missed something,” Mac answered in similar hushed tones. “How are you sure you’ll get enough time with Madison’s phone?”  
“I called in one more favor,” Veronica informed her friend softly, nodding her head to indicate Logan Echolls sitting a few tables away with Dick and Cassidy “Beaver” Casablancas. Logan was alternately taking a clandestine swig from a flask and taking a mouthful of soda water from a liter bottle. The rich movie star’s son sat facing Veronica, his green button-down shirt open over a white surfer shirt. Logan was on full display, languidly upright with a confident posture as he drank his makeshift scotch and soda lunch. Next to him, sunken-eyed Beaver took a brief glance at where Logan was looking, then quickly snapped his gaze away in disgust. Mac paled at the silent scorn of her ex - even his quick head whip had not completely concealed the look of disdain on his face. Cassidy was now approaching his brother Dick’s significant height and was no longer quite the skinny undersized sophomore Veronica remembered from last year; Mac and Veronica could see Cassidy’s shoulders hunch in tension and anger from behind.  
“I saved Logan from a fate exactly as bad as a chatty Gia Goodman,” Veronica went on after the sad byplay between Cassidy and Mac. “He owes me - he can get Madison clear.”  
“Does Logan have to be involved?” Mac whispered, shooting another quick look at Cassidy’s back.  
“For one of the popular kids, people really seem to hate Madison,” Veronica responded, furtively glancing at the ‘09er behind her to make sure they weren’t being heard. “The only two people I know that Madison doesn’t completely despise are Logan and Gia Goodman. Would you rather I ask the flighty and loquacious burger heiress?”  
“Point taken,” Mac replied. “I’m ready when you are.” Veronica looked among the remaining teens at the table, getting nods from Wallace and Al. Looking farther afield at Logan, he acknowledged with a gamin smile and a toast from the soda-water bottle.  
Go time.  
The first part of the plan was getting Madison in position - Veronica wanted her up, in the lane of traffic, and not paying attention to her bag. Paying attention to Madison’s bag was Wallace’s job. Veronica could probably have tried grabbing the phone herself, but Madison’s native hatred and suspicion of the pint-sized PI made that impractical.  
So, what topic would be most likely to literally get a rise out of Madison Sinclair?   
“So I saw Sheriff Lamb the other day,” Veronica remarked loudly to Mac, ensuring Madison could overhear. “Can you believe he put a weight bench in the Sheriff’s office?”  
Veronica had found out Madison was having an illicit assignation with the lawman a couple weeks back. The thought didn’t make her retch. Quite. Veronica just hoped that Madison was using birth control - each of them were horrendous; imagine what their spawn would be like.  
“What? He’s kinda hot,” Mac responded, playing along. “He’s like a total babe.”  
“He’s the pig of destiny?” Veronica asked of the Babe-ish policeman.  
“Uh, no,” Mac said faux sarcastically. “He’s like, terrific. Radiant.”  
“Humble?” Veronica asked, her voice dripping with saccharine insincerity. “No Mac, he’s just Some Pig.” Veronica could hear as Madison shifted in the seat behind her. Definitely got Madison’s attention. Veronica checked Al, his fingers clenched on the sides of his food tray, at the ready to stand. “Anyway, so I’m at the Sheriff’s station and Lamb is in a dick measuring contest with Hector, trying to get Hector to turn on Thumper. And Lamb is just saying all sorts of stuff about how Hector’s not a real man. That Lamb can pick up high school girls better than Hector, but he doesn’t know why he would, since, apparently, we’re all really, really bad in bed.”  
This got the desired reaction, as the chronically shrewish ‘09er jumped out of her seat in involuntary anger, only to immediately get run into by Al Hart, innocently carrying his tray back to the cafeteria. The sophomore boy crashed into the already-livid girl with a loud oomph, followed by the echoing clatter of the tray hitting the floor as the contents left a gory battlefield on Madison’s designer top. The red-faced girl looked down at the sanguinary mess and let out a primal scream of rage.  
“I will kill you, you little twerp!” Madison exclaimed, browbeating the downed underclassman she had jumped in front of.  
Logan sauntered over, Dick shadowing along, and offered his free hand to help Al up. “Lay off it, Madison,” Logan commented. “Can’t be the first time a guy stained your shirt.” Dick gave an immature guffaw and high-fived Logan at the expense of his former long-term girlfriend.  
Madison looked ready to explode as Logan made her a peace offering of his soda water. She dumbly accepted it and stared down at the bottle, uncertain what to make of it.  
“Keeps the shirt from staining,” Logan explained. When the girl, who obviously knew nothing about clothes except how to buy them, just kept giving Logan a demanding and demeaning look, he indicated Madison should follow him to the bathrooms. Stripping off his outer button-down shirt, Logan was left with just the sleeveless surfer shirt, biceps bulging in the noonday sun. “C’mon, I’ll rinse it for you. You can have this, unless you’ve got something in your gym locker.” Logan unfortunately had a great deal of experience in washing out more sinister stains from his own clothes. Aaron Echolls hadn’t wanted the housekeepers to see the bloodstains he had left on his son’s shirts after the frequent beatings, so Logan had gotten adept at washing them himself.  
Madison handed Logan his shirt back, but still felt the need to vent her spleen. “Thanks, Logan. It’s good to see some people know how to be helpful,” she said disparagingly while giving a contemptuous stare at onetime lover Dick Casablancas.   
Dick had been standing behind Logan uncertainly, but at Madison’s remark, the very tall, very tan, and very blond surfer boy threw up his hands in disgust, grumbling a halfhearted and unfunny “I wish I knew how to quit you,” as he beat a hasty retreat back to his dark-haired brother. Logan and Madison ignored the Casablancas drama and walked towards the gym.  
“Well, that went pretty well,” Wallace commented, handing Veronica Madison’s phone, which he’d managed to snag in the confusion.  
“I love it when a plan comes together,” Veronica smiled as she searched Madison’s phone for the Sheriff. Veronica had to resist the urge to vomit as she started texting “Lamby.”  
U up 2 meet 2nite? Need some Lamb meat  
Fortunately, the Sheriff of Balboa County was not-so-diligently at work, as always, and had plenty of time to text with his high school booty call.  
Grand? Lamb wrote back. The tryst that Veronica was aware of had occurred at the Neptune Grand hotel - considering Lamb’s salary, he had probably let Madison pay.  
Let’s meet at a dance club first Veronica texted back on Madison’s phone. Car in shop. Bitch V Mars scraped paintjob. U hear abt Possibilities?  
Isn’t that a bar? Lamb asked back, obviously not realizing it was a gay bar, but also one of the few places that had a separate dance floor so under-21s could go. Just outside Balboa County, it also had the benefits of being far away and outside Lamb’s jurisdiction.  
Veronica sent a series of texts, hoping it would provide the hook she needed.  
Dance club & bar   
Under 21 alwd  
Costum nite  
Dancing gets me soooo horny - b ther @7 or I pick up sm1 else  
Veronica nervously stared at phone, wondering if she’d pushed it too hard. The seconds ticked by, until the phone buzzed back with Lamb’s response.  
See you there.  
Veronica broke into a victorious smile while she deleted the texts from the phone and called Elizabeth Woolf’s number, garnered from Danny’s student file.  
“Hello, who is this?” the MILF asked.  
Veronica tried to use a strident, entitled voice similar to Madison’s. Despite being a gifted mimic, Veronica couldn’t quite match Madison’s distinctive unpleasantness.  
“You don’t know me, but I’m calling to let you know Sheriff Lamb is cheating on you. With a high schooler. You’ll find proof at Possibilities bar at 7 pm tonight.”  
“Why are you telling me this?” Elizabeth asked.  
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Veronica answered, not needing to fake the anger she felt at the Sheriff who had so often failed and persecuted her. She hung up and then deleted the outgoing call from the log as well, before handing the phone to Neptune High’s deft point guard to return it.  
“Did you really just send the clueless cop to a gay bar? On Village People theme night?” Al asked, after having overhead the name Possibilities. “How very Police Academy of you.”  
Adopting the singsong rhythm of the Simpsons’ Stonecutters chant, Veronica asked “Who makes Steve Guttenberg a star?”  
Al and Mac looked at each other with brief uncertainty before answering in querulous unison, “We do?”  
Switching from Simpsons to Shaft, Veronica channeled her inner Isaac Hayes in answering definitively:  
“You’re damn right.”


	6. Chapter 6

Veronica and Mac sat in the LeBaron, once again parked at 109 Isaiah Place. Mac had left her car at school since neon VW bugs weren’t particularly unobtrusive.  
The late afternoon sun filtered through the LeBaron’s windshield as the ladies intently watched the Phaeton in the driveway down the street. Veronica took a small sip of cold bottled water, trying to keep cool as the old Chrysler did its best impression of a greenhouse in the Southern California spring afternoon. Veronica debated starting the car, but the A/C in the beat up old legend wasn’t the best anyway.  
“You’re sure you’re ok coming along?” Veronica asked her understated friend as she handed Mac an unopened bottle of chilled water.  
“We’re walking into an empty house and using keys, right?” Mac asked back around sips of water. “What could go wrong?”  
“A lot, actually,” Veronica admitted. “Last time I took someone along trespassing, the parents came back sooner than expected and we got caught - only Sheriff Lamb’s disregard for rules and utter hatred of child abusers kept us out of real trouble.” That incident had been with Duncan Kane, dressed in a black turtleneck like some 1920’s beat musician. The thought of Duncan pursuing justice while wearing endearing, but ridiculous, fashion choices gave Veronica a brief moment of reflection and nostalgia for lost love. Aside from that period last year when he thought they might be related, Duncan had been amazing. Love of Veronica’s life. Veronica chalked up the trauma and lost time with Duncan to her mother’s affair with Jake Kane, Duncan’s father. Yet another treat from Lianne Mars – thanks mom.  
“Anyway,” Veronica continued, “yes, a lot of things could go wrong. Elizabeth could come back early. Danny Woolf could come back early. A nosy neighbor could report something. And I’m kind of guessing on two of the alarm code numbers, since I couldn’t see them - if I get those numbers wrong, the whole thing is a bust.”  
“Remind me again why you want me here?” Mac asked, seeking reassurance.  
“Woolf might have something on his computer that we can use to get him to stop bullying Al,” Veronica reminded Mac. “You have a better chance of getting into the computer than I do. If we can find something, then Al is significantly less likely to kill himself. He even threw in a couple free tickets to the spring musical, assuming Woolf doesn’t cause him significant bodily harm between now and then.”  
“I’m doing this for $5 student musical tickets?” Mac questioned skeptically. It wasn’t a real question, though, Mac had already agreed to come despite the lack of material rewards. She was just nervous.  
“Well, that and saving a life,” Veronica deadpanned. “But I heard Al sing yesterday - don’t undersell the tickets.”  
Then, both Veronica and Mac’s attention was caught by the Woolf residence as a well-dressed and tidily made up Elizabeth Woolf closed the door to her house. Her porcelain features were in a mask of anger as she got into her jet black car, which didn’t roar so much as provide an ominous predatory purr when Elizabeth pulled out. Veronica checked the time on her phone - 6:30 pm. That only gave them about a one-hour window to find something on Danny Woolf, hopefully enough to get him to leave Al alone.  
The two ladies stepped out of the parked LeBaron and walked down the street and up to the Woolf’s door.  
“So ... guessing on the passcode?” Mac asked nervously.  
“Here goes nothing,” Veronica responded with confidence, sliding the key home and entering the Woolf’s foyer. Making a bee line for the nearby alarm console, Veronica typed in 116116. When she was rewarded with a green light Veronica let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.  
“Good guessing, I guess,” Mac responded. “What now?”  
“This way,” Veronica answered as she led the way to Danny Woolf’s second floor bedroom. The house was normal - pictures of Danny and Elizabeth hung on the walls by the door, while impressionist art hung elsewhere on the first floor. The hardwood floors didn’t have the ostentation of fancy stonework, but they exuded the type of high class of people who didn’t need to prove anything. The house was immaculate, but Veronica hadn’t seen any cleaning people while they waited for Elizabeth to leave - they probably came during the day.  
Coming to the room that Veronica thought equated to Danny Woolf’s from her surveillance, Veronica found an unlocked wooden door. Entering Danny’s room, Veronica found it relatively neat, for a teenage boy. Bed was made and there was nothing on the floor, but the shelves were chock full of stuff and the walls festooned with posters of scantily clad women, fast cars, pro athletes and a North Carolina State University pennon.  
Mac fired up the computer while they both searched the desk for password clues. This proved to be pointless as Mac guessed it on the first try once the computer had finished booting.  
“‘Password’?” Veronica asked.  
“The password is always ‘password’,” Mac answered disparagingly. “I guess you didn’t need me after all.”  
“Division of labor will still save time, which we don’t have a lot of,” Veronica pointed out. “See what you can find on the computer - I’ll poke through the other stuff.”  
Making a quick circuit of the room, Veronica didn’t see anything jump out at her from the stuff on the shelves, though Neptune football team photos were displayed prominently. Veronica unscrewed a ventilation grill using a screwdriver from her bag, but no secret materials came spilling out. Air vents had been a popular hiding place for Neptune students’ contraband the past couple of years. The clothes dresser mostly held clothes, but rooting around the top drawer Veronica felt a sheaf of glossy paper. Veronica removed what turned out to be a kinky magazine with the title “House of Milan” on the front cover. Not bothering to repress a shudder, Veronica grabbed the edge of a T-shirt and used it as a makeshift glove to put the magazine back at the bottom of the drawer without letting it further touch her skin. Afterwards Veronica wiped her hands repeatedly on the leg of her jeans to try to remove the mental stigma of touching Danny Woolf’s sex magazine. Vigorously.  
Consistent with the magazine, Danny’s closet also contained a few hidden “prizes”, such as several sets of black fuzzy handcuffs and a few small leather implements with a series of 1-2” thongs coming out the end. The small whips didn’t look like they could actually hurt anyone, but Veronica left them undisturbed all the same.  
“Any luck?” Veronica asked Mac sitting at the computer.  
“Lots of porn, including some slash fic you definitely don’t want to read. Lots of video games,” Mac reported. “Some badly written homework. I copied some of the porn and a file that looks like passwords to websites onto a flash drive. I’m going through old emails now, but nothing is jumping out at me.”  
“Anything special about the porn?” Veronica asked. After tailing cheating spouses for so long, Veronica had a relatively strong stomach for such things, though she still preferred not to physically touch the ickiness.  
“There’s a lot of guys getting tied up,” Mac answered distastefully, clearly uninterested in delving further into the sordid details.  
“The guy making fun of Al for being gay, is also gay?” Veronica asked in half-disbelief. That was an astounding level of hypocrisy - Kelly Kuzzio had made plenty of homophobic jokes as part of his cover, but even he hadn’t resorted to bullying other gay students.  
“Tied up by women, best I can tell,” Mac corrected. “You can check for yourself on the stuff I downloaded. I have no particular desire to see our horny teen Woolf’s stash.”  
Veronica checked the time on her phone, then told Mac to wrap it up before Elizabeth came home.  
“That’s it?” Mac asked. “We don’t have any incriminating secrets. No secret crimes. No backroom dealings. Just a normal horny teenage boy.”  
“I’ve got enough to work with,” Veronica reassured her friend.  
After all, Troy Locke had been right about one thing:  
It’s always about sex or money.


	7. Chapter 7

Veronica awoke, sitting up in her bed and running her fingers through her fine blond, unkempt hair. Either Keith Mars was making breakfast, or Veronica was being robbed by the nicest criminals ever. The smell of bacon must permeate the entire small, two-bedroom efficiency apartment to reach Veronica’s bedroom in back. Reaching in to Veronica’s closet, she got dressed as quickly as a starving teenager could.  
Coming out to the living room/kitchen area, Veronica was greeted by a lovable dour face, smiling excitedly over pleading eyes - Veronica’s brown-and-white pit mix Backup had clearly been getting bacon scraps as Keith cooked.  
Looking to the chef extraordinaire, Keith was already cleaning the cookware. His almost-completely bald head stood over a powerful frame, but his smart button-down shirt and slacks looked both professional and practical.  
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Keith greeted. “Any longer and Backup might have gotten your breakfast,” the former Sheriff-cum-private investigator commented, indicating the plate of bacon next to cold cereal and juice. Keith believed in having something hot for breakfast whenever possible, but during the week it was hard to make a full hot meal before school.  
“Morning, pops,” Veronica responded as she sat down and ate most of an introductory piece of bacon before pouring some cereal. A very happy Backup got a bacon bit as well. “Hey, you have a good relationship with the head of security at the Neptune Grand, right?” Veronica asked. Talking about security experts was fairly typical breakfast table conversation at the Mars household. Given that Veronica had been dating Duncan Kane while he lived at the Grand, it was also a pretty safe assumption.  
“Pretty good, yeah,” Keith answered, around his own breakfast. “Why do you ask?”  
“One of the bus crash victims worked as a bellhop there. Peter Ferrer,” Veronica answered. “I was wondering if you could get me a list of the days and times he worked, along with any incidents that might have come up.”  
“Ferrer, huh?” Keith asked. “Sounds familiar.”  
“From having his name all over the news the past six months, or from something else?” his daughter asked back, her eyes flashing mischievously.  
“Probably from the news,” Keith mulled. “That’s going to bug me,” the former Sheriff chewed, “I’ll let you know if I can think why I’ve heard his name before.” Keith looked at his 18-year-old daughter and thought about what to say regarding the Neptune Grand info. “Ok, honey. I’ll talk to my guy. But if you come across anything dangerous, let me know right away. Two Mars are better than one.”  
“Will do, dad,” Veronica promised. After companionably eating their bacon together, Veronica brought up the other thing that was bothering her. “Hey dad, can I ask you a question?”  
“I don’t know, honey. If I say ‘no’ would you actually burst from an over abundance of curiosity?”  
“It’s possible. Better not to risk it,” Veronica answered with a straight face. “How would you recommend going about hiring a prostitute?”   
In fairness, the final piece in Keith’s redemption last year had been tracking down, and hiring, a working girl. She had provided a conclusive alibi for the Kane murder patsy. Mere weeks ago Keith had hired a working girl, having her come to the house over the matter of a missing briefcase. Hiring hookers was a necessary skill set for a PI sometimes, and one Veronica hadn’t had practice at.   
Keith gave Veronica one of those stares for when he thought she was up to something reckless and trying to hide it. Which was totally unfair - she had come right to him and asked directly about the reckless thing. No hiding at all. “Most days, I think I have this ‘father’ thing figured out pretty well, and then my 18-year-old daughter wants to know how to hire a hooker. I guess I should be happy you didn’t ask for advice on how to set up shop yourself. I assume this is for professional, and not recreational, purposes?”  
“There’s a bully at school, and I’ve been hired by one of his victims to put a stop to it. I’ve discovered some ... interesting proclivities of the bully, and was hoping to get something incriminating to get him to back off.”  
“Well, I think a professional is probably not the way to go here,” Keith advised. “First off, most of them will refuse to do anything that smacks of blackmail - it ruins their reputation, such as it is, and opens them up to violent reprisal. If they have a scheduler, the retribution might even come from them. Anyone who did agree would have all the morality of Vinnie Van Lowe, and would be happy to double-cross you by blackmailing the mark directly for more money - it’s a lose-lose situation. But let me ask, how much does the lady need to *ahem* commit to get the incriminating video?”  
“Not much, actually,” Veronica replied. “Some provocative clothes and dirty talk. Probably have ample opportunity to set up the camera. Why do you ask?”  
“Well...” Keith drawled, “if that’s all it is, maybe you could get a friend to do it.”   
Veronica thought about Keith’s suggestion and whether it could work. Veronica only had one female friend close enough to ask - Mac. The bookish woman was having issues with her boyfriend because he wasn’t making enough bold moves, but this was WAAAY out of the computer savant’s comfort zone. The thought of virginal Mac strapping on a leather corset and the soft spoken, sardonic girl attempting to whip Woolf into shape, literally, was ridiculous. It was all Veronica could do to keep from laughing her cereal out her nose. Honestly, Veronica might have laced up a corset herself, but Woolf already knew she was helping Al.   
Veronica had been able to use another girl, Jackie Cook, to honeypot a Chicago baller a couple months back. Jackie seemed more of a friend now, but pretending to be a dominatrix didn’t seem in her particular skill set. Also Jackie was trying to shake the bad girl image from first semester, and didn’t seem likely to agree. Jackie could be a backup plan, and probably better than sticking poor Wallace in a wig. Keith’s idea wasn’t bad, though - Al himself was plugged into the theater folks and Al might have a friend willing to do their best to help a friend.  
“Thanks, Dad,” Veronica said. “That might work.”  
Keith gave his daughter a content smile. “That’s my job. You ever need anything, I’m here for you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Veronica shielded her eyes with a hand as she walked onto the brightly lit, empty Neptune High stage. As her sight adjusted, she saw several students in the auditorium house, on ladders wearing black t-shirts and jeans, adjusting the heavy lights on wide metal bars above the seats. Overseeing them all was a narrow-faced freckled girl holding a clipboard, directing the stage crew as to what color gels should be used and where the lights should be placed. The girl looked up and saw Veronica on stage.  
“Hey, you! On the stage!” she yelled.  
“I know...” Veronica answered, making ready to get off the stage and out of their way.  
“No, stop!” The clipboard-bearing girl ordered. “Center stage, by that black X mark in tape. Can you stand there a second?”  
Moving to her mark, Veronica was cascaded with blue light, then red. Finally, a green light flashed from waist down.  
“Hey Jason - fix that green fresnel!” The girl demanded, as she made her way to Veronica on the stage. “Blue and red are fine.”  
“You here to help out?” the girl asked authoritatively once she was onstage with Veronica.  
“Actually, I was hoping I could get you to help me with something,” Veronica replied to the girl with the clipboard. Close up Veronica could better see the slender freckled senior. Tall for a girl, over 5’6, with mousy brown hair falling straight down, the direct and earnest student director bore a striking similarity to the religious girl from Freaks and Geeks.  
“Meryl Carey, right?” Veronica continued. “Al Hart said you might be willing to help him out with something.”  
At the mention of Al’s name, Meryl’s bold attitude took on a cast of sincere concern. “How’s Al holding up? I’ve been worried about him for a while, and showing up last week with a black eye didn’t help.”  
“He’s fine, for now,” Veronica answered. “He hired me as a bodyguard, and I’ve managed to keep the worst offenders away from Al for now.”  
“You?” Meryl asked, clearly unconvinced. “A bodyguard?” she continued, taking in the pint-sized PI’s petite frame.  
“I’m stronger than I look,” the teenage girl replied. “But to stop the harassment permanently, we have a plan for the biggest bully and could use your assistance.”  
“Absolutely!” Meryl replied, heartfelt loyalty evident in her tone. “Anything for Al! He’s a real sweetheart.”  
“I’m glad you said ‘anything’,” Veronica responded with some relief. Al had recommended Meryl as someone who could help; now it was time to see just how far she’d go. “The plan requires some ... personal touches on your part. It might help to think of it as an acting role.”  
“What kind of role?” the once-enthusiastic thespian said, now with cautious uncertainty.  
“Think... Body of Evidence Madonna.”  
“You’re suggesting I do dominatrix work?” Meryl incredulously asked. Indicating the staging for Chicago around them she continued her rant, “You’ve got me going from Fosse, Fosse, Fosse to Madonna? What are you thinking?!”  
“That you’re a good actress and a good friend to Al. And that shoehorning in Martha Graham, Twyla, and Michael Kidd doesn’t make sense for the case,” Veronica rejoined.  
“You’re trying to convince me to help by buttering my ego, playing on my sympathies, and using Birdcage references?” the student director yelled in disbelief.  
“Yes.” Veronica answered bluntly. “Did it work?”  
Meryl Carey stopped short before answering the diminutive detective. “Dammit. Yes.”  
Taking a deep breath, the student thespian said, “Alright. In the words of the immortal Kenickie - tell me more.”


	9. Chapter 9

Veronica Mars sat in her beat-up black LeBaron, reviewing the messages of a dead teenager while sitting in the parking lot of his former employer, the Neptune Grand hotel. Hair pulled back in a severe businesslike bun to keep it out of the way, Veronica read Peter Ferrer’s heartfelt but ominous missive for at least the 81st time.  
“I don’t know how I feel about this girl, but I can’t stop thinking about her. If I could figure out a way to just say what I feel - I don’t know. What about when she finds out I like guys too? I don’t think I could bear to see her turn away from me, after laying it all out like that. And there’s a secret about her that would blow up this whole school.”  
Tearing herself away from Peter’s haunting message, Veronica entered the upscale modern hotel. The midday crowd was relatively sparse, mostly comprised of neck-lanyarded middle-aged office drones here for some conference or other. “How to commit real estate fraud and leave your kids with a few mil when you flee the country,” if prior Neptune business practices were any indication.  
Walking up to the front desk, Veronica was pleased to see blond and friendly Tina Callis behind the counter, name tag prominently displayed on her uniform. Veronica got along well with most of the hotel clerks, including Tina, but generally tried to avoid the short-haired brunette clerk, Stephanie, ever since an incident junior year.  
“Good afternoon. Welcome to the Neptune Grand Hotel, how can I help you?” Tina greeted with bright professionalism.   
“Hi, Tina,” Veronica answered. “I’m Veronica Mars, a student at Neptune High on the yearbook staff. We’re putting together a retrospective of all the students who died in the bus crash at the beginning of the year, and I was hoping to talk to some of Peter Ferrer’s coworkers. See what he was like, and maybe get some quotes for the memorial book. Do you have any ideas who would be good to talk to?” This was a story that would hold up pretty well – Veronica had been doing photo work for the school newspaper and the yearbook ever since Ms. Dent’s journalism class last year.  
“Oh, that’s such a great idea,” Tina replied. “Everyone here really loved Peter, and we were really sad about the school bus tragedy - I know a lot of people will appreciate making something to remember him by. I actually started a couple months before it happened, and got to know him a bit. He seemed ... quiet. Almost... secretive? Not, like, nervous, but just - how do I say it? When he would wait here in the lobby with nothing to do - he would seem weighted down. Like he had something to say and nobody to say it to. Peter mostly kept to himself.” Nodding to a tall, curly haired boy by the concierge desk, Tina said, “Jeff Ratner there is the only bellhop on duty this afternoon, but he didn’t start until after the bus crash.”  
“Jeff who?” Veronica asked. “Never mind.” If he didn’t know Peter, Veronica didn’t really need to know who he was. “Is there anyone Peter did talk to?”  
“Well...” Tina answered uncertainly. “I didn’t see them together a lot, since I don’t overlap with her schedule much, but Peter seemed to get along well with one of the other front desk clerks. Stephanie. You might recognize her - kinda tall, pale, with short brunette hair? Her shift starts soon, I think she’s in the employee breakroom eating lunch.”  
Veronica sighed at her bad luck - of course the one person she needed to talk to was the one she’d rather avoid. Par for the high school experience. The diminutive blond flashed a bright pixie smile to Tina in thanks anyway. “Thanks Tina. Would it be ok if I went to break room to talk to Stephanie?”  
“You can check with Stephanie, but as long as you’re not bothering the other employees, I don’t see why not,” Tina provided helpfully. “Head back around through the lobby and towards the back of the building - the break room is the door on the left right before the kitchen.”  
As Veronica followed Tina’s directions through the lobby, a familiar rogue stepped out of the sleek elevator and into the artfully lit foyer. Logan Echolls looked his customary mischievous self, wearing a flowing earth-toned shirt over a white muscle shirt as he boldly walked into the Neptune Grand lobby.  
“What are you doing here?” Veronica asked, surprised.  
“What am I doing here?” Logan asked back. “I live here. This is where I get clean clothes from - unless you’d rather I raided Duncan’s old things. I know how much the ladies love blue argyle. The question, miss Nosy Nancy, is what are you doing here? I thought you were babysitting an underclassman this week.”  
“Side project I’m working on,” Veronica deflected. Logan hadn’t moved into the Grand until this fall, after Peter Ferrer had died, and it was unlikely Logan palled around with the help anyway. He wouldn’t be able to give the inside scoop on Peter Ferrer.  
“And I’m not ‘babysitting’ anyone, I’m just making sure Al doesn’t get beat up or emotionally traumatized this week. Anyway, thanks again for your help yesterday,” Veronica said genuinely.  
“Yeah, we work well together,” Logan said with a wry twist to his mouth. Veronica couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.  
“Sure thing,” Veronica half joked in response. “I keep you from throttling annoying people, you’re the pied piper of luring spoiled ‘09ers away from me - we make a great team.”  
“All you need is LoVe,” Logan riposted, his puckish grin making clear that he was using the joint nickname for team Logan/Veronica. Although he was definitely joking this time, the heartbroken young man couldn’t get through the jest without a tinge of bitterness.  
“Ugh, that portmanteau!” Veronica exclaimed. “I thought you hated it as much as I do - what possessed you to go there?!”  
“That is what is known as ‘country witticisms,’” Logan mocked.  
“Ah. That’s more like the Logan we’ve all come to know and...” Veronica paused briefly and looked skyward, snapping her fingers and pretending to search for the word that completed the phrase, “ umm...the Logan we’ve all come to know.” Veronica finished emphatically, making clear that’s where the phrase ended.  
“Good to see you’re as gracious at accepting other people’s help as always,” Logan bantered. “Always fun catching up. As they say, ‘I’ll see you in court!’ Testify in a little over a week?” Logan was looking ready to move on, and though he attempted wry humor, his eyes flared with anger at the impending murder trial of his former girlfriend, Lilly Kane. The fact that it was his own abusive father on trial only seemed to fan the flames, and his rage wasn’t directed at the petite girl in front him.  
“One thing before you go,” Veronica interjected, taking his arm in her hand to stop the boy from leaving. Logan simply looked down at her fingers resting on his bicep and arrested his progress with an intense stare.  
“I thought you’d like to hear the recent scuttlebutt from the Sheriff’s office,” Veronica teased. “You’ll never guess who got picked up by the police last night.”  
“An actual criminal?” Logan asked sarcastically. “Oh, wait, that’s not likely with Sheriff Rosco P. Colon-Pain in charge.” After having been wrongly suspected of murder by Sheriff Don Lamb – twice – and Lamb using his typical indolent incompetence ineffectively investigating who burned the Echolls’ house, Logan Echolls was one of the many Neptune residents who loathed Sheriff Lamb.  
“Funny you mention it - it was actually Narcissus Fife himself that got picked up,” Veronica said with a laugh in her voice and an irrepressible smile. “Crossed the county line to rough up some people at a gay bar, wondering where the women were at. Made a real scene and shoved a bunch of guys around until a couple of bears showed their claws. He was let go as a ‘professional courtesy’ once the cops realized he was actually Balboa County Sheriff, and not just an asshole Village Person. Still, the entire department has been doing the ‘YMCA’ dance behind his back all morning. I thought that might put a smile on your face.”  
Logan broke into his signature puckish smirk. “You know my inner heart so well,” he chimed with malicious glee. “Ciao,” he said with a friendly head nod of leavetaking, walking out of the hotel lobby with a spring in his step and joyful schadenfreude in his heart.  
Making her way through the rest of the lobby and towards the more utilitarian back of the building, Veronica stopped before the large swinging double doors that lead to the kitchen. Opening the nondescript door to her left showed a stark fluorescent-lit room filled with cheap plastic tables and chairs, and a couple of couches lined against the wall, so dilapidated they might fall apart if you tried to move them. The room only had a few people in it; lunchtime seemed to be a busy time for hospitality workers - there were no servers from the restaurant or housekeeping staff, all of whom were presumably hard at work. One maintenance man was sleeping on a couch, while a knot of laundresses talked animatedly amongst themselves at one of the tables. Stephanie, sitting in one corner by herself, was already wearing her Neptune Grand uniform as she ate a sandwich.  
Walking up to Stephanie’s table, but not presuming to sit down, Veronica tried to ignore the awkwardness and politely asked, “Mind if I join you?”  
“What is it?” Stephanie asked, making no indication that Veronica was welcome. The hotel clerk was not nearly so polite when she was off the clock.  
Veronica repeated the story she had given Tina at the front desk, “I don’t know if you know me - my name is Veronica Mars. I’m a student at Neptune High on the yearbook staff and we’re putting together a retrospective of the bus crash victims. I’d heard that you and Peter Ferrer were close - I was hoping you’d be willing to talk about what he was like.”  
Stephanie’s expression softened a bit at Peter’s name, but still looked like her lunch had too much lemon juice. “I remember you,” Stephanie said with an edge of suspicious hostility. “But I thought your name was Lynn Echolls. Or at least that was the name you gave me. How’s the baby?”  
Veronica flushed, her entire face going red with embarrassment at Stephanie’s question. Who knew that lying to people could get you into so much trouble? “Umm.. I was never actually pregnant. Sorry about that story last year. No drunken tequila one-night-stand. I just needed to find out who had used the room to catch an identity thief.”  
“And that bald guy pretending to be your ‘father’?” Stephanie asked, still suspicious.  
“Oh, no, that really was my dad,” Veronica replied. “He’s a private investigator - that’s why we were looking for the thief. Keep an innocent grandma out of jail.”  
As recognition dawned on Stephanie’s face, most of the latent animosity melted away. “Oh, right! Keith Mars, right? Yeah, he came in here to interview people once. He didn’t look the same without the Sheriff’s uniform. So, did you get the thief?” As Stephanie asked, she finally indicated Veronica should join her at the table with a hand gesture.  
Sitting in the flimsy plastic chair across from Stephanie, Veronica smiled at the hotel clerk. “Yeah, we got the guy. I hope we didn’t cause you too much trouble.”  
“I got a warning from the manager, even though he ok’ed it, but then he dropped it and never mentioned anything,” Stephanie explained. “If the card was stolen, that would explain it - we only safeguard paying customers’ privacy. So, what is it you want to know about Peter?”  
“Well,” Veronica said, looking at Stephanie’s eyes to gauge a reaction. Despite the lack of outright animosity, it seemed best to start slowly and establish a rapport before asking about Peter’s mystery girl. “I guess let’s start with what he was like at work. If there were one thing you’d want people to know about Peter Ferrer, what would it be?”  
The question brought a sad smile to Stephanie’s face, but her eyes glowed warmly. “Peter was the best person I know at keeping secrets. You could trust him with anything and he just made me feel ... comfortable. He had this quiet maturity to him. Which is weird, because he was so much younger than me - just this scrawny little freshman barely allowed to work when he first started. And you see some stuff working at a hotel, even a high-end one like this - nothing seemed to phase Peter. He was quiet around most people, but once you got to know him, he was the most sincere, sensitive, dependable guy.”  
Looking at Veronica and trying to weigh whether to say something, Stephanie leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “Can I trust you with a secret? Not for the memorial book?”  
Veronica smiled her most trustworthy smile, “totally off the record,” Veronica confirmed. “Take it to the grave.”  
“Sometimes I’d let Peter work the front desk when I needed to take a break, even though we’re not supposed to. I trusted him that much, and he never let me down. Not once.” Stephanie confided. “What was he like at school?”  
Veronica was taken aback. She actually didn’t really know anything about Peter Ferrer outside his Pirate’s SHIP postings – he hadn’t even been on her radar until after he died. “Yeah, he was quiet at school too. He had one other close friend I know of, but Marcos also died in the bus crash. Not a lot of people knew Peter liked guys, and of those, almost nobody knew he was bisexual.” At this, Stephanie’s eyes grew wet with lambent tears, though she kept the emotions from overcoming her face. “Oh, shoot – did I just out Peter?”  
“No, he told me,” Stephanie answered with a husky voice. “I don’t care if he was gay. He could be a disco dancing, Oscar Wilde-reading, Streisand ticket-holding friend of Dorothy – I don’t care. He was my friend, and a good one. The quality of his character was more important than who he had romantic intentions towards. It’s just … the way you described his life – it was just so isolated.”  
Veronica reached into her bag and retrieved one of the PI tool essentials – a tissue. Offering it to the hotel clerk, Veronica gave Stephanie a moment to compose herself. “Sounds like you guys knew each other really well,” Veronica remarked. “Maybe you can help me with a minor mystery - one of his friends said that he had a secret crush on a girl at school, but didn’t know who. I think she’d like to know that there was someone out there who cared about her so much, and also see what she thought of him. I don’t suppose you know who the special lady might be?”  
Stephanie laughed, wiping away the last vestiges of the nascent tears. “Yeah, that’s Peter. A boy of intense and hidden passions. He did mention a girl a few times, but like I said, he’s the best person I know at keeping secrets. I knew him over two years and he kept on about her - same girl, I’m sure of it. Never once mentioned a name - like he was afraid the CIA would come out and kill me if I knew the girl he liked.” Stephanie laughed at this ruefully, like it was ridiculous. Knowing that someone actually had killed Peter Ferrer, it hit Veronica like a punch to the gut. “One thing I know for sure,” Stephanie continued, “they were in at least one of the same classes together last year. There were a few times he would mention that he had seen her in class that day.”  
“Thanks, Stephanie,” Veronica replied thoughtfully. “Is there anything else you can tell me about her? Did he describe what she looked like or anything she had done?”  
“Well, she’s really pretty - at least according to Peter. And she had a rich boyfriend at some point, and Peter was worried he wouldn’t measure up. Sorry, that’s about all I’ve got - like I said, Peter was light on details. I can tell you this - he was really infatuated with this girl. I think it’s a tragedy she never found out how Peter felt while he was alive. Peter Ferrer was one of the good ones.”


	10. Chapter 10

Veronica Mars stood slightly forward, knees slightly bent, ready to turn quickly in any direction to intercept, eyes locked on her adversary across the room.   
Swinging her badminton racket wildly, Veronica whiffed as the birdie innocently fell on her side of the court.  
“That’s game for me,” Cora called triumphantly from the other side of the net.  
“As much fun as it is to whack little plastic doohickeys around the gym with you, Cora,” Veronica remarked, “I have to say I’m really looking forward to never having a gym class once we graduate in a couple months.”  
Veronica looked down the rough line of teens on either side of the badminton nets, each dressed in gold-and-emerald Neptune gym shorts and t-shirts. They were all going through the perfunctory motions, but by mid-spring of senior year, most everyone looked like they shared Veronica’s disdain for P.E., and would rather gym class involved advanced sunbathing and nap taking.  
While looking at the ennui seniors, Veronica spotted a much more energized junior by the side of the gym - Troy Locke was stretching near the entrance to the weight room, not TOO far from Veronica’s makeshift badminton court. Veronica decided to take advantage of the serendipity - hefting her badminton racket, she rocketed the projectile in her hand towards Troy, watching it fly right next to him in a clean parabola. Hey look, gym class was useful! Knowing how to hit a birdie came in handy for once! “Sorry Cora - I’ll get it!” Veronica announced, dutifully following the plummeting object. Veronica came up close to the golden athlete seated on the floor, who was reaching for his toes to stretch his hamstrings.  
“Oh, sorry. We were playing badminton and I was a little rough on the shuttlecock,” Veronica flirted innocently. “It was Bye, Bye, Birdie - have you seen it anywhere?”   
Troy looked up at Veronica standing over him, one of the few times she was taller than someone. “C’mon Veronica, I can see through your thin excuses - you just wanted to talk birdie to me,” Troy responded with a friendly smirk.  
“Close,” Veronica replied, as she leaned close to pick up the shuttlecock. “You may not believe it, but I’m actually here to cry Woolf. I have an idea to get your teammate to stop being such a bully, but I could use your help.”  
“By any chance, would this plan involve you, me, and a date?” Troy asked.  
“No, but I guarantee it’ll be more interesting than your average Thursday,” Veronica rejoined.  
The muscular tight end stood up, and stretched his arms, putting his elbow behind his head. Despite just shooting down another of Troy’s advances, she couldn’t help but admire his toned arms as he stretched. “Hmm. It’ll be mildly interesting? What else have you got for me?”  
“You’d be doing the right thing,” Veronica answered simply and sincerely. “Helping someone out. And making your friend Danny a better person, even if it is somewhat grudging.”  
Morality and loyalty to his friends clearly mattered to Troy, as he now visibly wavered on the decision. Veronica had to remind herself that, despite his persistence, Troy wasn’t just a walking libido. “Hear the plan out this afternoon,” Veronica suggested. “No commitment - just meet me at the auditorium lobby after school.”  
“Yeah, ok,” Troy reluctantly agreed, with a smile that was friendly if not filled with his usual enthusiasm. Veronica smiled back and thanked him, pretending she didn’t notice the way he looked at her while she walked back to the badminton nets.

...

The midafternoon sun blazed through three sets of thick plate-glass windows, forming a box of light outside the entrance to the Neptune High Auditorium. Seated on a pair of wooden benches inside, Veronica Mars and Al Hart each scrolled through an open laptop. Taking a break from his trigonometry homework, Al snuck a peak at his temporary bodyguard’s computer.  
“Hey, that’s not your student schedule!” Al decried when he saw what Veronica was poring over.  
“Umm ... manners?” Veronica asked, slightly annoyed at the invasion of privacy, and a bit chagrined at how often she had done the exact same thing to other people, now that she was on the receiving end. “You’re right, it’s not. How did you know?”  
“I’m in that trig class,” the sophomore objected. “And I’m pretty sure you’re not. Whose schedule is that?”  
“If you must know,” Veronica commented dryly, “it isn’t even a schedule for this year - it’s from last year. It’s for a yearbook project I’m doing on one of the bus crash victims, Peter Ferrer. I’m trying to track down the people that had class with him last year, see who might know him well enough for a quote.”  
“And someone just gave you his schedule? And is that a list of everyone who was in those classes?” Al asked, now the one affronted at the invasion of privacy.  
“You’d be surprised what you get from asking nicely. Plus it’s not current schedules, so not much privacy invasion.” Affecting the heavy smoker’s rasp of an elderly Long Island woman, Veronica added “A certain assistant superintendent Roush may have called the NHS office and said how much I look forward to seeing the memorial that Mars girl is working on, and please help her however you can.” The deep croak was somewhat less convincing at the end, as the short blond girl gave Al a wide, satisfied smile.  
The sophomore thespian appraised Veronica appreciatively, duly respectful of the verisimilitude of her Roush impression.  
“Impressive you could sound so old. And you don’t look a day over 25,” Al mocked of the 18-year-old, before returning to the limited appeal of doing his homework.   
Veronica continued looking through the class lists, scanning the names of Peter Ferrer’s classmates. Gym class - nothing special without a deep dive. Trigonometry - nobody jumping out. When Veronica got to Geography, a trill of excitement hit her as she found her best lead on Peter Ferrer’s mystery woman so far - Lizzie Manning. Peter and the middle Manning daughter had been in the same grade, Lizzie now a junior, and they had shared a Geography class last year. And Veronica knew one Manning secret that could qualify as blowing up the school - Lizzie’s parents were downright abusive to their kids, particularly the youngest daughter, Grace. That kind of scandal from a prominent family would rock the town. In fact it had rocked the town when Duncan Kane took his daughter, by Lizzie’s sister Meg Manning, to keep the baby away from Lizzie and Meg’s parents. Veronica just wasn’t sure yet what connection the scandal might have to the Neptune Grand in fall of 2003.   
Also the boy-crazy Lizzie had certainly dated her share of rich boys, fitting Stephanie’s other clue. Lizzie was reputedly a wild child and had done some things. The “rich boy” clue wasn’t very helpful, overall. Given the demographics of Neptune, practically every girl had dated a beaucoup bucks beau at some point - heck even Veronica had been dating billionaire’s son Duncan Kane starting practically forever ago.   
Lizzie had had a tense relationship with Meg, but Veronica had no doubt that Lizzie loved her sister, and never would have killed Peter Ferrer if it meant taking out her sister, too. Lizzie’s parents, on the other hand, had shown they were capable of vicious and surprising measures to get what they wanted - Veronica wouldn’t put it past them to bomb a bus full of kids, even if their “tainted” daughter Meg happened to be on board. It was something to consider, and Veronica couldn’t help but indulge in some wishful thinking that it was them – if Stewart and Rose Manning were guilty of multiple homicides, it might open the door for Duncan Kane coming back home.  
With muted hope, Veronica continued to look through more classes for further possibilities. Biology – no obvious suspects. Ms. Dent’s Journalism class-   
“Hmmm,” Al vocalized pensively, looking away from the tenuous draw of doing his homework. “For Peter Ferrer. Have you thought about asking Susan Knight? She would hang out with Peter a bunch. Strictly platonic, of course, ‘cause... y’know.”  
The diminutive detective gave Al a skeptical squint, “And how is it that you just happen to know this?”  
“Seriously?!” Al incredulously asked. “There’s not that many gay Pirates, and I’m pretty sure we all know each other. Peter was a year ahead of me - he’d look out for me sometimes.”  
Veronica hit her forehead with the heel of her hand, the answer being obvious. She’d had a ready source of information on Peter Ferrer right in front of her for half a week and hadn’t used it - Veronica would have to see what Al knew.  
“Of course!” Veronica exclaimed. “Which moniker did you use on Pirates SHIP? And how come you know about Susan Knight, but Ryan didn’t?”  
“I’m ‘RocksySunshn’, and if you can’t tell by now, I kind of have a soft spot in my Hart for the musical Chicago,” Al answered. “As for why I knew about Susan, and Ryan didn’t - well, if you worked an after school job delivering pizza and spent the rest of your time mooning over DirtyMartini, you might not be aware of everything that’s going on, either.” Being a SHIPper, Al would know Peter was LGBTQ, but probably didn’t know where exactly Peter fell on the Kinsey scale. He wouldn’t know about Peter’s secret lady love.  
“I should have asked you about this in the beginning of the week,” Veronica self-flagellated. “So you’re telling me that Susan Knight, BFF with gossip queen of Neptune Carrie Bishop, and who mysteriously disappeared for half a semester last year, was friends with both the most gossipy girl in Neptune and the most inscrutable boy in Balboa County?”  
“Yeah, pretty much,” Al answered. “I don’t think a lot of people ‘knew’ Peter well. He didn’t come from money, he worked hard, and he mostly kept to himself. He had a hard knock life. But I’d see him hanging out with Susan. Worth talking to her, right?”  
Veronica searched the class listings as she thought about Susan Knight, a classmate of Veronica’s and a year older than Peter. Fall of 2003 is when Susan had started her affair with the history teacher and model UN advisor, Mr. Rooks. An affair that started with a stay at the Neptune Grand. Where Peter Ferrer worked. Peter must have been heartbroken to see his friend taken advantage of so badly - it would have been even worse if he had loved the girl. The affair had ended before Susan’s junior year, but the secret pregnancy that had resulted from it had caused SK to hide out at the end of last year - giving birth and, apparently, mourning her friend. Although Rooks had “resigned” last year, most people still didn’t know the facts - it was still a major unpublicized scandal for the school. And right there, on the class lists, Veronica found that Susan Knight and Peter Ferrer had been in the same English class last year - Freestyle Composition.  
“Yeah, worth talking to,” Veronica confirmed. “Thanks Al - I’ll swing by Susan’s place after our meeting with Meryl and Troy.”  
Entering on cue, Meryl stepped out of one of the large sets of double doors leading from the lobby to the auditorium house. The brown-haired girl maintained the same businesslike attitude she’d shown Veronica that morning, complete with clipboard.  
“Alright, I’m here,” Meryl announced as she closed the distance to Al and Veronica. “Al – you warmed up? Ready for rehearsal after… whatever this is?”  
“Yeah, I’m warmed up,” Al reported. “Thanks again for agreeing to help me with this. I know it’s above and beyond, and I really appreciate it. For what it’s worth, I’d do the same for you.”  
“We already got to dress you up in leather for Cabaret last year,” Meryl answered acerbically. “At least this way I get some use out of my old costume.” As an aside to Veronica, Meryl joked, clucking her tongue and shaking her head, “For some reason the theater department wouldn’t pay for custom-fit corsets for last year’s musical and I had to buy my own. The state of our educational programs today.”  
“Absolutely,” Veronica agreed with exaggerated mock sincerity. “I always make sure someone else is paying for my fetish wear. It’s the only way to go.” Veronica’s closet had nothing that was “fetish wear” nor had anyone offered to pay for it, so this was technically true. Did hand-me-down handcuffs count as fetish gear?  
“So where’s this other guy we’re supposed to meet?” Meryl asked, clearly impatient. The show must go on, but it apparently took more planning than just sticking a bunch of teenagers on a stage.  
“He’s on his way,” Veronica stalled, seeing a blond head approach in the distance through one of the plate-glass windows. “There he is now,” Veronica indicated the sauntering giant in a Neptune varsity football jacket.  
Entering the auditorium lobby, Troy Locke walked straight to the two ladies, giving each a measured look as he strode across the smooth flooring. Troy looked past Meryl and Veronica briefly, to give Al a slight, belated head bob in greeting, before turning his attention back to the girls.  
“Veronica,” Troy acknowledged. Paying more serious attention to the taller woman and her clipboard, Troy broke into a wide smile. “Hello, Nurse!”  
Meryl’s eyes tightened warily, but she smiled in response to Troy’s enthusiastic greeting nonetheless. “Meryl,” she introduced. “And you are?”  
“At your gracious disposal,” Troy smiled flatteringly. “But if there is a service I can give you, you can call me Troy.”  
Meryl shot Veronica a brief questioning look to see if the footballer was serious. Veronica gave a near-imperceptible head tilt, nod and shrug of her shoulders – not a ringing endorsement, but yeah, Troy was alright, and he was probably sincere, but unexclusive, in his attraction to the student director. Meryl gave a crisp nod in answer.  
“Alright, Troy,” Meryl welcomed. “I understand we’re here to figure out how to keep Al Hart here from breaking a leg before opening night, and that Veronica has an idea on how to get Danny Woolf in line.”  
“Yeah, that’s what I know,” Troy agreed. “But I don’t know the how. Danny can be a jerk sometimes, but he’s been like this as long as I’ve known him. I’m not sure what you can do to get him to stop.”  
“Well,” Veronica explained, “I have it on good authority that there’s something about Danny that he might not want to get out. He might get bullied a bit himself if something like this leaked. Now, I agree with you Troy, that it’ll take a lot to get Danny to lay off people, which is why I think we need a video of this particular thing. Which is where you two come in.”  
Troy face darkened, casting a pall on his normally attractive features. But he was already here, so asked for more information. “And what, exactly, is this thing you hope to blackmail my friend with?”  
“Danny is into male submission,” Veronica laid out simply. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”  
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Troy agreed. “And you want me to … what, hold the camera while you humiliate my teammate on video?” In frustration, Troy started to turn back towards the lobby entrance from which he had just entered. “No, look, I’m sorry, I won’t do that to a friend, even one who’s crossed a line or two. I’m sorry to have wasted your tim-”- Troy’s turn was halted as Meryl reached out and gently held his upper arm.  
“Wait,” Meryl pled, her entreaty much softer than the directorial tone Veronica had heard from her so far. “Please, just hear her out. For my friend’s sake,” Meryl requested, indicating the slight figure of Al Hart.  
Troy looked down at Meryl’s hand, and took a deep breath. Wordlessly, he turned back to Veronica to hear her out.  
“Ok, look, humiliating Woolf isn’t what I want,” Veronica conceded, shooting a quick dagger glance at Al as he attempted an abortive remark that maybe some people wanted exactly that. Stun gunning the guy wasn’t vengeance enough? Veronica could appreciate taking an injury personally, but here it didn’t help the case. Maybe, for once, Veronica had better perspective this time since she wasn’t the one Woolf had been tormenting. “I promise, regardless of what happens, the video is just for leverage. It won’t make the rounds at school. Even if Danny calls our bluff, all I do is send it straight to his house.”  
Troy cocked an eyebrow, obviously not fooled by the fact that Veronica had said “his house” rather than “him.” Troy thought a moment, the shroud of anger passing from his face as he considered. He clearly believed Veronica’s promise, and seemed to appreciate that she had been honest with him. Not overselling. Veronica’s threat to share the incriminating video with Danny’s mother still left Troy with a momentary quandary, but he reluctantly agreed.  
“Yeah, ok,” Troy stated, coming in and sitting next to Al, joined by Meryl and Veronica. Meryl sat next to the tight end, and Veronica noticed that her hand went back to Troy’s arm once they were seated, as Troy continued. “But you don’t send it. You don’t have it. I get the only copy, and, if it comes to it, I send it. To his house. That’s the only way I do this.”  
“Not a problem,” Veronica readily agreed. Although Veronica preferred to have more control, the fact was that no plan was going to get anywhere without a reliable person that Danny Woolf trusted. That meant Troy.  
“So what’s the plan?” Troy asked.  
“Well, you have somewhat of a *ahem* reputation as a ladies man,” Veronica explicated. “With your varied and illustrious history, you mention to Danny about this girl you just went out with,” indicated the straight-haired brunette touching Troy’s arm. “She was totally freaky, way into tying you up and doing all sorts of things with paddles, whips, clamps. She’d stayed dressed,” to which Meryl nodded emphatically, “and you wore a…” Veronica trailed off, uncertain what to say.  
“Codpiece,” Meryl supplied.  
“Yeah, that,” Veronica confirmed. “Anyway, it was mind blowing, totally amazing, yada yada yada, he’ll want to call Meryl here the next day.”  
“Alright,” Troy replied, nodding as he understood the story. “And where did our ‘seven minutes in hell’ take place?”   
“Well, Danny is going to want to go to the same place,” Veronica mused. “Both the Neptune Grand and the Camelot motel headboards are set up for handcuffs, but the Camelot is more anonymous and more within my budget, so I think that’s the way to go.”  
“And how is it you know these things?” Troy asked.  
“Attorney client privilege,” Veronica stonewalled the tall jock, with a straight face.  
“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Al interjected. “You’re going to make Danny Woolf stop beating me up by having him get beat up … by a girl.”  
“Pretty much.”


	11. Chapter 11

Veronica walked from her car to the front door of Susan Knight’s small apartment, the lowering sun warming the back of Veronica’s shoulders through her jacket. Veronica had first found Susan at this apartment a little over a year ago, towards the beginning of Susan’s “sabbatical.” Her parents had disowned her over the unplanned pregnancy, so unlike Duncan Kane or Logan Echolls, Susan couldn’t live it up at the Neptune Grand.  
After Veronica knocked on the door to the apartment, the door swung open, revealing a tall, willowy pale-skinned brunette with rose lips. The woman’s runner’s build was covered by a cobalt-blue blouse, the uniform for a competing Neptune café, and her expression retained just a hint of the satisfied superiority that had been prevalent last year. “Hey Susan! You have a guest!” Carrie Bishop called into the house. “Should I let Veronica Mars in?”  
A soprano voice answered from inside the apartment. “Tell her I’ve moved on from history teachers – English teachers are much more cunning linguists and my sex life is no longer her concern.”  
“You heard her,” Carrie chivvied, making no move to get out of the doorway and indicating Veronica could leave.  
“It’s about Peter Ferrer,” Veronica called, loudly enough to be heard within.  
After a pregnant pause, Susan Knight called back. “Come in.”  
Veronica following Carrie’s tall form, the two women walked the short distance into Susan’s apartment. The living room was spare but functional, the only frills being a standing electronic keyboard and a decent-sized TV screen, currently playing a classic movie - 1950’s Cyrano de Bergerac. Susan turned off the tale of the lovelorn Punchinello with the impressive flesh protuberance, getting up and greeting Veronica. The tanned girl was of a height with Veronica, but had dark butterscotch blond hair and a rounder face with the vestiges of being a tomboy. Susan’s full figure still had the barest hint of baby fat from last year.  
“Sorry,” Susan apologized perfunctorily, “Carrie here has been playing gatekeeper for a bit. You wouldn’t believe the low grade harassment I’ve gotten since coming back to school. Word gets out that you’re a slut and it seems like everyone makes your life hell just because they can.”  
“Yeah,” Veronica mused cynically, giving a knowing look to Susan’s gossipy friend, “I might be less surprised than you’d think. You mind if we sit down?” Veronica asked. Sitting down would reduce the unequal power dynamic of two-on-one; Susan would still feel supported by the presence of her friend, but might relate to Veronica on a more personal level than if they were standing.  
“Yeah, sure thing,” Susan replied, waving towards the functional couches in the room. After they had seated themselves, Veronica on one sofa and Susan and Carrie on the other, Susan cut to the chase. “So what is it about Peter you wanted to talk about?”  
“Well, I’m working on a retrospective on the bus crash victims for the yearbook. I’m looking for people who knew Peter well,” Veronica explained. “It seems he kind of … kept to himself, but I heard that you and he spent time together.”  
“Good old Iron Pete. Yeah, that was us,” Susan mulled nostalgically. “Three semi-lapsed Catholics: the knight, the bishop, and the queen. You know he was gay, right?”  
“More or less,” Veronica evaded, before interrupting the conversation. “Wait! You knew Peter Ferrer was gay, and didn’t tell anyone?” Veronica asked of Carrie Bishop.  
Carrie’s superior expression increased tenfold as she pursed her lips, offended. “I don’t share things told to me in true confidence, I definitely don’t out people, and I never say things that hurt my friends,” Carrie answered with a warning in her voice. Susan, whose pregnancy and illegal affair Carrie had kept secret, nodded in agreement.  
“What was Peter like?” Veronica asked, getting back on topic.  
“Guarded,” Susan answered. “And moral. Peter was a goddamned hero – more than once I had to stop him from flat out beating on Mr. Rooks. He took my thing pretty personally – he thought it was really wrong for an older guy like that to take advantage of a kid. Honestly, I wouldn’t have even come forward last year if Peter hadn’t convinced me, and stuck by me, along with Carrie.   
“And Peter wrote beautifully. That’s really what he and I bonded over. I’m more about standing up, speaking out, but I can appreciate a well written piece. Peter would scrawl these haunting, evocative things – I reread some drafts of stuff we passed back-and-forth after he died, and I felt like he took the crumpled weeping soul out of my body, gave it a good hard shake, and put it back better than he found it. His stuff had more meaning to me after … well after giving up the baby and after his death. If you want material for the retrospective, ask Peter’s parents and Miss Mills at the literary magazine for some of his stuff. It’s oblique, but… man it’s powerful stuff.”  
Susan sniffed, limpid blue eyes luminous with saline. Veronica gave the mourning teenager a moment and asked Carrie, “Carrie, what about you?”  
The poised brunette nodded, not nearly as affected as her friend. “Yeah, that’s Peter. A good friend, and a terrible source for gossip. I’d ask him about what went on at the Grand sometimes and never got anything. Nothing. Ever. But, he used to do this sweet thing, I’m sure it was him. Big tippers would come from the Neptune Grand to our coffee shop. Someone kept referring them to the shop, to me in particular. I’d never worked a day in my life before my dad split two years ago, and money got tight. Peter just gave quiet encouragement and support, even though he’d worked pretty much his whole life. And he never once mentioned those big tippers he sent my way.”  
“He did that?” Susan asked her friend. “I never knew about that!”  
“Yeah, those first couple months there, that paid rent,” Carrie answered. Even through her graceful countenance, Carrie showed some cracks of distress at Peter’s untimely demise. “It was kind of rough until dad’s support payments finally started coming. What Peter did … it wasn’t flashy, but it really made a difference.”  
“Wow,” Veronica said, filling in the silence as the two women thought of their dead friend. “Peter was a man of hidden depth. I don’t want to get too personal, but I have it on pretty good authority that Peter had a pretty strong infatuation for someone at school that he never told. A girl at school. I think she’d want to know, and, I’m wondering, was it maybe you?” Veronica asked the tearful Susan. The question seemed to take Carrie a bit by surprise, but Susan’s eyes merely clouded with dolor.  
The butterscotch blond smiled, flattered, with sad eyes. “Peter Ferrer keeping secrets even now. I didn’t know about his crush, but I can tell you it wasn’t me or Carrie.” Darting her head to look at the time displayed on a microwave in the kitchenette, Susan exclaimed, “Oh, shoot, look at the time! Carrie, we better get you going or you’ll be late for work. Come by tomorrow for talent show practice?”  
“I got you babe,” Carrie replied, as she stood up. Veronica and Susan also arose.  
“Here, I’ll walk you guys to the door,” Susan offered, taking them the short distance to the entrance.  
“Thanks again for the help,” Veronica acknowledged, the interview obviously concluding.   
As Carrie stepped through the open door, Susan blurted out, loud enough for the departing the Carrie to hear, “oh, hey, Veronica! You mind sticking around a second? I just thought of something.” Carrie looked back at her petite friend, arching an eyebrow in question. Susan nodded, to which the departing gossip maven ducked her head in acceptance and left.  
Returning back to the kitchenette, Susan started a pot of tea and offered Veronica something to drink, an obvious pretext as Susan stalled on the reason why she wanted Veronica alone. Being polite, Veronica accepted a water.  
“Look,” Susan began, “before we get back to Peter, I had something I wanted to ask you. Just you, without Carrie here. It’s a stupid idea, but I have to know…”  
“What is it, Susan?” Veronica asked, concerned.  
“If I asked you to track down my baby. To find out where it is, if it’s doing alright … could you do it?” Susan had seemed sad before, but bringing up the child she had given up was heartrending.  
“I… if it’s what you really want, I could try,” Veronica answered candidly. “It’s not always possible, but I did manage to do it once before. I have to ask, is that what you want? The best I can do is tell you who the baby ended up with. I’m the last person to advocate against opening Pandora ’s Box, but are you sure you want to know where your child is and never be able to see them?”  
“I don’t know,” the disconsolate girl wailed. “Which is worse, torturing yourself with what you can’t have, or imagining what terrible things can happen to someone?”  
“Well, like I said, I always want to know,” Veronica said with assurance. After a momentary pause, she reconsidered. At one point, when she was uncertain that Keith Mars was her biological father, she had gathered the materials for a paternity test. And hadn’t submitted it. Lianne Mars had merely threatened Jake Kane with a paternity test on the day Lilly Kane had died, and the ever-curious Veronica Mars had pulled together a test without submitting it – neither had resulted in an actual assessment. It had been Keith Mars’ need to know that had resulted in the test confirming Veronica’s parentage. After her pause for introspection, Veronica corrected herself. “I have to take that back. Sometimes, for family, I just trust. But this is your call – if it’s what you want, I’ll do my best to find the baby.”  
“I just don’t know,” the teen mom sighed. “I’ll have to think about it, and I’ll get back to you - but thank you Veronica.”  
Susan dabbed the tears from the corners of her eyes and took a sip of tea to calm herself before continuing. “About Peter and this girl. Peter called himself a queen, but didn’t talk much about who he was interested in. A couple times last year he mentioned he was really into a guy, and I don’t know what came of that. I think the fact that he liked girls too might have caught Carrie a bit by surprise – Peter and his secrets. I’m not ready to tell her the story about how I found out, so I was hoping you could keep this just between you and me?”  
“Of course,” Veronica promised.  
“So, after I gave up the baby, I was a wreck. Like, really bad,” Susan confided. “Peter helped me through it a lot, and … well, we all know I don’t exactly have the greatest discretion when it comes to men. Peter’s just so, well, he’s attractive. Was attractive,” Susan corrected sadly. “And friendly. And supportive. And smart. I made a pass at him. That kind of understates it – I came on pretty strong. Let’s just say I was hormonal, and alone, and here’s this friend that I wanted to be more. And he never said he was Kinsey-6, so it seemed worth a shot. I just really wanted it.”  
“And he said no…?” Veronica asked, leaving it hanging.  
“Kinda.” Susan Knight answered. “He said he didn’t really feel that way for me just then, but that he was interested in both men and women. And, he was honest. He respected me. He thought I was smart. That I was funny. That I was pretty. And that I was a mess. He thought hooking up wasn’t what I needed – that if I used him to get over postpartum depression, I wouldn’t be doing anybody any favors, and I’d just end up ruining what we had. And we talked, because he was good at that. And I think he was right.   
“But if I was this girl he liked? He would have told me then. I hope you find out who she was - whoever it is, I envy her.”  
Sniffling around the mug of tea, Susan was obviously working herself up to say something hard. Runnels of water ran from Susan’s eyes down her cheeks, flavoring the tea with bittersweet brine. After a few false starts, Susan was able to finish her thoughts.  
“But, you should know, Peter didn’t friendzone me. He said the world is a wide and wonderful place sometimes, with unexpected treasures to go with the hidden cesspools. He wasn’t head over heels for me, but he felt a spark. A possibility. A maybe. ‘Life is too short to let such opportunities pass us by or to let injustices long stand.’ Peter said if I was feeling better after the summer, and still felt like dating each other was a good idea once my senior year was under way, then he thought we should give it a shot before I left for college next year.  
“We were supposed to meet at the Grand after he got back from the field trip.”  
Tears flowed freely down the sorrowful senior’s face, as her voice went from husky to broken.  
“I was going to ask him out the day he died.”


	12. Chapter 12

Wallace Fennel took his brown bagged lunch and sat at the ketchup-red fiberglass Neptune High lunch table where Veronica Mars and Al Hart sat eating. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, but both Veronica and Al looked tense.  
“Hey, mind if I join you guys?” Neptune’s point guard asked, trying to read the mood at the table.  
“Of course, please,” Veronica immediately answered, brightly and enthusiastically. “We were just talking shop. P.I. shop - not shop-class shop.”  
“I talked to Meryl this morning,” Al reported. “Whatever Trolloc told Danny Woolf, it must have really done the trick – Woolf was looking for Meryl first thing this morning and wanted to set up a date. She played coy just a bit, but I think this is really gonna happen tonight.”  
“What’s happening?” Wallace asked curiously, taking his lunch out of his bag.  
“Veronica has been playing matchmaker, matchmaker - finding Woolf a find, and, if all goes well, catching a catch,” Al answered. “We’re setting up Woolf with my friend Meryl to get some leverage so he’ll leave me alone after their ‘date’ tonight.”  
“Remind me again never to cross you,” Wallace remarked to Veronica. “Any chance you can use your Hello Dolly powers and convince Jackie that she should give me another try?”  
“Al was quoting Fiddler, actually,” Veronica corrected. “Wrong matchmaker. But as for Jackie Cook, I think you’ll just have to win her over with your own not-inconsiderable charm. I can put in a good word for you if I think it’ll go anywhere, but this is the woman who disliked me so much she wanted to humiliate me on public access television. I don’t think I’d be much help.”  
Exasperated, Wallace sighed, and turned to the gay sophomore. “Alright, Al? Any advice? Can you Queer Eye me? I’m desperate here!”  
Al laughed self-deprecatingly, “Me?! You’re asking me for dating advice? I’m lucky more people don’t want to beat me up,” indicating the mostly-healed black eye. “Actually dating someone? God, I have no clue. Just even knowing who it is I want to date at this point is a major accomplishment for me. It’s like you’re waiting for this switch to flip, that you’ll be attracted to girls. That’s what’s ‘supposed’ to happen, after all. And it just doesn’t. And when it doesn’t you don’t feel like you’re ‘different’ - you feel like you’re broken. And maybe sometimes I’ve been kind of a jerk because of it.  
“But for you, what? You’re both young, attractive, straight, single, 18? You like her? She likes you? Yes?” Wallace nodded in grudging agreement to Al’s questions. “You want advice from Gay Yoda? Gay Yoda says ‘stress it, you should not.’ Mutual attraction will work itself out.”  
“Gay Yoda?” Wallace asked.  
“I’m preaching patience, it seemed appropriate,” Al rejoined. “Anyway, I think you’ll be ok.”  
“That … was oddly helpful,” Wallace mulled.  
“No charge,” Al answered facetiously. “Speaking of which, how much do I owe you for the protection racket?” the slight sophomore asked of Veronica.  
“We prefer the term ‘personal safety services’, thank you very much,” Veronica objected. “Protection racket would be if I’m extorting you, not extorting others on your behalf.”  
“Ugh, yeah, well ‘personal safety services’ makes it sound like you’re my dedicated condom buyer,” Al snorted in disgust. “Anyway, everything’s free in America for a small fee in America – what do I owe ya?”  
“What do you say to 25 a day plus gas and the Camelot motel bill tonight? 200 even?” Veronica quoted.  
“Prices that cheap, people will say we’re in love,” Al accepted. “I’ll bring the money to school tomorrow.”  
“Happy to help,” Veronica replied, with a distracted look on her face. She continued to look past Al, and leaned slightly to one side so she could get a better look at who was beyond the sophomore sopranist. “Hey, you mind hanging with Wallace for a bit? I just saw someone I have to talk to.”  
Without waiting for an answer, Veronica got up and hurried across the courtyard to a round-faced junior girl with curled shoulder-length honey-blond hair packing up from her lunch. Lizzie Manning wore her usual “school” look – dolled up long lashes, red lips, and generous cleavage – a far cry from what Veronica saw when Lizzie was with her parents.   
“Lizzie, can I talk to you for a minute?” Veronica asked.  
Lizzie Manning reared back in surprise at Veronica’s approach, and made no effort to hide her affront. “Look at the brass balls on you, Veronica Mars! You steal my sister’s boyfriend? Ok, fine. Meg was heartbroken, but some of that’s on her - she should have known better than to get caught up in the Duncan Kane/Veronica Mars drama. You get her killed, because she never would have been on that bus if not for you? And to top it off, you kidnap my niece? Don’t think for a minute everyone doesn’t know that has your name all over it. And now you want a favor?!”  
“Look, I wouldn’t have come to you if it weren’t important,” Veronica responded calmly to the girl yelling in the middle of the courtyard. Looking around at the gawking onlookers, Veronica asked, “Can we talk about this somewhere more private?”  
“Why the hell should I?” Lizzie asked loudly.  
Leaning close and whispering to the irate girl, Veronica made her best case. “I need to know if your parents killed Meg.”  
Lizzie stepped back in stunned surprise, dumbfounded with an expression at a total loss for a response. Veronica simply stared at Lizzie, wordlessly and confidently, her eyes boring the truth into the younger lady that Veronica was very serious in her suspicions.   
“Fine, follow me,” Lizzie brusquely led the way to the side of the gym, where a pair of goth kids were smoking clove cigarettes. Lizzie demanded privacy of the black-clad pair with an intense look. “Clear out. Mars and I are having a lover’s quarrel.”  
Lizzie pulled out a cigarette of her own, unfiltered, and lit it while waiting for the other two teens to leave. Offered a drag of Lizzie’s cigarette, Veronica declined, but took the opportunity to hopefully lessen some of the tension between her and Lizzie Manning.  
“Look, I’m sorry about your niece. And I won’t insult you with a denial. All I have to say is, Duncan told me why he had to take her, and I think it’s a reason you can understand. Meg asked him to take their daughter away. It was her dying wish. She couldn’t bear the thought of your parents raising her. This is what Meg would have wanted, and the baby is better off this way. I think you know why.”  
The two women locked gazes, smoke curling around the younger woman’s face while Veronica’s sapphire orisons blazed with an intensity that cut through the haze. After a moment, Lizzie looked away and waved a hand at the smoke wreathed around her, trying to interrupt the truth that Veronica’s admission had brought. Lizzie knew what her parents were like.  
“Now my question is,” Veronica explained calmly, “could your parents have wanted to kill Meg to keep this secret? She’d talked to protective services, anonymously. She had notes. She was going to blow this whole thing up. And your parents didn’t know about the pregnancy until after the bus crash. If they found Meg out, all they would know is that their little Meg was fornicating and betraying them. Could they have done this?”  
After a long pause, Lizzie took another drag of her cigarette before breathing out a smoke-filled, forlorn, “Maybe.  
“I don’t know what they’re capable of anymore. I’ve got another year here, and I don’t know whether to be ecstatic I can go or terrified that I’m leaving Grace behind. But if they just wanted Meg dead, there have to be easier ways than crashing a whole bus full of people.”  
“There are,” Veronica admitted, “but I have another wrinkle for you. One of the other bus crash victims knew something about a girl at Neptune High. ‘There’s a secret about her that would blow up this whole school,’ he said. If this was the secret, if, not one, but two people on the bus knew about your parents – that’s why they would crash the bus instead of something simpler.”  
“Who was this?” Lizzie asked, perplexed.  
“Peter Ferrer,” Veronica answered. “He worked at the Neptune Grand hotel, and I think, whatever secret this was, he found out about it in the fall of 2003. Did your parents have any dealings that would have brought them to the Grand your freshman year?”  
“Well, I mean, yeah, they’re at the Grand a lot,” Lizzie retorted as if it were obvious. “The Grand does conferences all the time, and mom and dad are always there for some religious foundation conference or other – I’m sure they did a bunch freshman year. You think this Peter guy figured out our parents from what they said at conference?”  
“Maybe…” Veronica replied uncertainly. “There’s one other thing about the girl Peter knew this secret about. He was in a class with her last year … and he had a huge crush on her.”  
“You think he had a crush on Meg?” Lizzie asked. “She never mentioned anything about him…”  
“Actually, he didn’t have any classes with Meg. I’m wondering if maybe he had a crush … on you.”  
“Wait, who is this again?” Lizzie demanded, confused. “Peter Ferrer?”  
“He was in your social studies class last year. You’re in the same grade,” Veronica pointed out. Peter had kept a low profile, but it was a little sad if his classmates didn’t even recognize him mere months after his passing.  
“Yeah, I know who he is,” Lizzie countered. “I thought he was gay.”   
“You thought he was gay…” Veronica repeated, startled at Lizzie’s response. Chewing on the implications, Veronica asked sharply, “Did he know that? He wasn’t exactly ‘out’.”  
“I’d be very surprised if he didn’t know – I ran into him at Possibilities,” Lizzie stated.  
“And you were at a gay 18-and-over-club with a fake ID because…?” Veronica asked, curiosity getting the better of her.  
“Because it has a good dance floor and it’s none of your damn business,” Lizzie snapped. “Why does it matter what I thought of Peter Ferrer anyway?”  
“The girl he liked,” Veronica explained, “he was worried what she would think of him if he told her he liked guys. This was around June last year. When did you run into him at Possibilities?”  
“Earlier,” the dolled-up junior disclosed. “Maybe April? So does this mean you don’t think my parents killed my sister?”  
“It’s not looking likely,” Veronica admitted. “I’m sorry. About everything.”   
Finishing her cigarette, Lizzie stomped on the smoldering embers. “Yeah, well, life’s hard all over. I miss my sister. And I miss that little baby girl. But if you see Duncan, tell him… tell him he did the right thing. And to send pictures.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Are you sure you want to join me for this?” Veronica asked Al Hart, walking down the Neptune High School hallways before class on Friday morning. “If this goes badly, it’ll mean more blowback on you.”  
“If The Gazebo has taught us nothing, it’s that blackmail is a hilarious romp with no bad consequences whatsoever,” the student thespian joked.  
“Yeah, and according to Angels in America nothing bad happens to gay people, ever,” Veronica countered. “Seriously – you want to confront Woolf with me?”  
The small sophomore boy paused a moment before answering seriously. “Yes, I want to do this, Veronica. I want him to know that it’s not ok to treat me like that. This is for me. I’m bringing you along as my heavy to enforce it,” he said, wryly indicating the blond girl’s short stature and slim frame as the unlikely ‘heavy’. “You sure you want to do this in public, before classes start, and not somewhere you can zap him?”  
“The whole point of this is that I won’t be around to stun gun him after today,” Veronica answered. “Our weapon here is peer pressure and Woolf’s desire to hide something – having a big crowd around us is the better defense. The idea that we’re willing show the video in public like this makes it less likely he’ll call our bluff.”  
“You sound awfully sure of yourself,” Al said, his voice vibrating with a trace of nerves himself. Veronica simply smiled what she hoped was a comforting smile as she kept her own racehorse anxiety buried deep behind the hard-boiled facade.  
Veronica saw the tall, dark-haired jock in his football letterman jacket, the back of his neck matching the rest of his tanned face. Danny Woolf, back turned to Veronica and Al, didn’t notice as Troy Locke handed Veronica a SIM card with last night’s video on it. Veronica took out a digital camera from her messenger bag and popped the small memory card inside. If Meryl or Troy had wanted to make Veronica look like a fool, it would be extremely easy to just give her a blank card, so Veronica tested a playback quickly just to make sure. The momentary glimpse of a tanned face and body showing too much skin next to a leather-clad figure was enough for Veronica to quickly shut the video off – Meryl had done her job. Veronica nodded to Al that she was ready.  
“Woolf,” Al howled. “We need to have words.”  
The broad-shouldered linebacker turned from his locker, noticing the short figures of Al and Veronica, a look of disdain on his face at the sight of the gay sophomore, but disgusted caution at Veronica’s presence. “I don’t give a shit what you have to say, butt-Pirate. If I want to hear your high-pitched squeal, I just need to kick you where most people keep their balls.”  
Veronica quickly flashed the video playback in front of Woolf, careful that he would be the only one to see it. “I think lots of people are interested in what Al has to say. And you should listen,” Veronica ominously murmured, azure eyes ablaze.  
Danny Woolf spluttered at the sight of his activities from the previous evening. “What the hell is that?” the jock asked incredulously.  
“That is what everyone will see if you don’t listen to my friend Al here,” Veronica not-so-subtly threatened. Subtlety was overrated when you had the biggest stick. Figuratively speaking.  
“I’ll call the cops!” Woolf exclaimed defensively.  
“You do what you have to do,” Veronica stated with equanimity. “But you should know – Don Lamb is not as smart as me, and your mom broke up with him two days ago. You’re not getting any special treatment. Quite the opposite if rumor has it.”  
“You’re .. you’re bluffing…” the tanned boy stammered. “Your reputation was shit after you let Carmen Ruiz’s sex tape leak. You know how bad that shit stinks – you’d never do it.”  
Veronica actinic blue eyes sparked as she kept a death stare on the large jock who beat people up because they were different. She didn’t have to feign any of the vitriol in her voice as she simply said, “You’re no Carmen Ruiz. And the only reason Tad’s life isn’t ruined more than it already has been, is because Carmen is no Veronica Mars. Try. Me.”  
The tall linebacker held up under Veronica’s steadfast withering scrutiny for almost seven full seconds, before hunching his shoulders in defeat. He didn’t think she was bluffing.  
“I want you to leave me alone,” Al stated gravely, the first time Veronica had heard him speaking with a prolonged serious tone. “No insults. No injuries. No talking about me behind my back. No getting popular kids to make up fake reports about me to administration. All of it stops. Now.   
“I accept who I am. I accept who I like. I live with it and I’m brave enough to face the world with it every day. Unless you’re willing to do the same,” indicating Veronica’s camera, “you leave me alone.”  
The defeated bully nodded his head in resigned acknowledgement, as Al Hart and Veronica Mars left him behind.

…

“I can’t thank you enough for how much you’ve helped,” Al exclaimed in the hastily-barricaded ladies room that Veronica used as a makeshift office. Veronica had passed the incriminating SIM card back to Troy once the confrontation had been complete.  
“Like I said, I’m happy to help,” Veronica downplayed.   
The stopped door rattled as someone outside knocked forcefully.   
“Hey, you guys?” a female voice called. “You mind letting me in?”  
Quickly removing the doorstop and checking the hallway, Veronica admitted Meryl Carey into the bathroom, re-stoppering the door behind her.  
“A funny thing happened on the way to the bathroom. You will never guess what Danny Woolf asked me to do on my way here,” Meryl crowed mischievously.  
“I’m not sure I want to know,” Al said dubiously. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for what you did last night, but I don’t think we need all the gory details.”  
“Oh, get over it,” Meryl brushed off. “We were both clothed the whole time. No, Danny asked, get this, if he could have a copy of the video. Not the original, just something he can watch himself. I’m not sure why I bothered hiding the camera.”  
“Oh, umm, ok,” Al faltered. “I guess I don’t see why not, if you’re ok with it. We don’t have it any more. If you want to share it, would you mind asking Troy?”  
“Yeah, not a problem,” Meryl breezed, much more easygoing when she wasn’t on the clock for the school musical. “We’re meeting up tonight after rehearsal, I can ask then.”  
“You’re dating Troy?” Veronica asked, surprised that the persistent horndog had found a willing partner. Meryl did meet his basic criteria of ‘someone with boobs,’ but it wasn’t an obvious match.  
“I wouldn’t exactly call it dating,” Meryl replied. “We haven’t moved past the purely physical.  
“What?” Meryl asked defensively, at the looks from Veronica and Al. “The boy is cute.”  
“Hey, whatever makes you happy,” Veronica admitted.  
“If you’re happy and he’s happy, I’m just going to stand here and be happy for you.”


	14. Chapter 14

Veronica Mars sat at the lonely desk in her small bedroom on Saturday night, copies of police blotters from 2003-2005 to keep her company. Deputy Sacks had helpfully sent the blotters a few days ago, along with the gossip at the Balboa County Sheriff’s Department about Lamb’s YMCA adventures. The blotters were technically public record, and since then-Sheriff Mars had insisted on digitizing them for public transparency, they were easy to read. Veronica had asked Sacks for the blotter since, somehow, valid public requests made through official channels had a way of getting lost by little Lamb. Veronica was running low on leads about Peter Ferrer’s secret, the one that ‘could blow up the whole school’, and was hoping a police incident had occurred that might provide a clue. It had been a long shot, and it didn’t seem to be paying off.  
Frustrated with the dead end on Peter’s mystery girl, Veronica put a hold on looking for the bus crash bomber, and opened up another file folder on her computer. The comprehensive listing of a year’s work by Veronica - the Lilly Kane murder investigation. Veronica was going to have to testify at the trial about a week from now, and she wanted to review the case notes to make sure the details were fresh.  
Starting at the beginning - October 3, 2003. Veronica steeled herself and read about the crime scene. The layout. The body. The statements of the people there - Jake Kane, Celeste, Duncan, the first responders. And Veronica, who had stumbled in after her dad to see the bloody remains of her best friend. Veronica reviewed her own statement thoroughly, so she wouldn’t contradict herself on the stand – holding off remorse with iron determination to see Aaron Echolls convicted.  
Next came the alibis. Jake and Celeste Kane’s statements that they were at the Neptune Grand that afternoon. They had left while Lilly was still alive. And there was no mention in their statements how, really, Lianne Mars had been at the hotel too, threatening Jake Kane with a paternity test on supposed “daughter” Veronica Mars. Or that Celeste had only come for twenty minutes to confront her husband’s mistress, and left well before Jake. Lianne had confessed all this to Veronica last year, but none of it had made the official report. The Kane files just had a statement from the front desk worker that confirmed the time Jake Kane came with a woman, and that there had been a noise complaint that was checked by staff, but it resolved without anyone entering the room. The statement concluded by providing the checkout time per the hotel computer. One last note to the Kane alibi file stated that the security videos had been “accidentally” prematurely deleted - this last bit was surely the work of Clarence Wiedman, head of Kane security, but was beyond proving.  
Moving to Duncan Kane’s alibi ... Veronica stopped short and looked back through Jake and Celeste Kane’s alibi file. Veronica looked carefully at the front desk worker statement. The statement by one Peter Ferrer. The statement Peter Ferrer made regarding what time Jake Kane had entered the hotel, with Lianne Mars, moments before Kane admitted, incorrectly, that Veronica Mars was his daughter.  
Peter Ferrer had been there that day. He had filled in at the front desk for Stephanie, so he was the only one there that time of the afternoon. Peter had been the only one there to check out the noise complaint, doubtless from the screaming and shouting in the room when Celeste had come to confront Lianne. He must have heard about the paternity test. The secret Peter Ferrer knew that would blow up the school - it was that Veronica was Jake Kane’s daughter. The secret was about Veronica.  
Veronica stared blankly at the screen.  
It had been her. Peter Ferrer had loved Veronica. They’d been in Journalism class together all last year, and she’d never noticed.  
Veronica stared at the screen a bit more, before numbly reaching for the far left corner of her desk, protected by walls of mementos.  
Veronica pulled out a unicorn music box, sitting in its hidden corner. The remembrance was a gift from her father - salvaged after Veronica had thrown it out, because it had first been a gift from her mother. The last gift from her mother, actually, before abandoning Veronica. The brief reunion last year where Lianne had stolen Veronica’s entire college savings didn’t really count for much.  
Veronica looked at the beglittered cube, heavy with the antique machinery of an old school crank-and-pin music box, the words her father said when he had given it to her echoing in her ears. “I promise, I love you as much as a mom and dad both. And if you need anything, I am here for you. We’re in this together, you and me.”  
As Veronica opened the weighty box, showing the dancing unicorn inside, five simple and sweet notes clinked out with all the tentative nostalgia the old box could muster. Five notes, repeated, isolated clinks against the silence of the night - chiming again to show how important they were. Veronica shed a tragic tear for the half-orphaned girl with a dead friend who had first gotten the tinkling music box over two years ago, and for a boy who had been too guarded to speak a sincere truth, now gone forever. Veronica thought of Peter’s lonely nobility as the single tear rolled down her cheek in counterpoint to the tinny song.  
“All you need is love.”


	15. Epilogue

The 2006 California Gay Pride festival takes place approximately four months after the events of this book, on July 30, 2006 in nearby San Diego, California. After leaving the festival, six men were attacked with baseball bats and knives. One victim was injured so severely that he had to undergo extensive facial reconstructive surgery


	16. Afterword

Without proselytizing, the choice of title is meant to be fairly pointed. I’ve read some interesting interpretations of Isaiah 11:6 regarding paradise and how ‘love conquers all.’ There is a grounded argument that in a perfect world, healthy love is accepted and widespread, even if it may seem unnatural in our imperfect present day. That it is, in fact, a mandate that we accept and love LGBT people in order to move closer to a world of perfection. Obviously there are many interpretations of Isaiah, spanning several religions and denominations, and it would be the height of arrogance to presume that mine is the sole correct interpretation. If you disagree with this reading of Isaiah, then the title may merely reflect wordplay around a literary figure and two characters in the book, with varying degrees of cleverness or tactlessness.  
This book is intended to be able to be enjoyed on a standalone basis. However, this novella is also meant to tie in to the overall story. Some tie-ins to the overall plot are described below. Most of the backstory that occurs in the past (relative to this novella) is given context and isn’t mentioned again here. Warning, spoilers ahead. If this isn’t your thing, just skip ahead.  
In Ep 2.19 Nevermind the Buttocks, Wallace mentions to Jackie that it has been “two weeks” since the Sadie Hawkins dance at the end of Ep. 2.17 Plan B. Ep. 2.18 I am God is disjointed, but appears to take place over 3 consecutive weekdays immediately prior to Ep. 2.19. This leaves a week in between Eps. 2.17 and 2.18 in which this novella could take place.  
In Chapter 1, Veronica mentions she hasn’t seen Mac this distraught in a while. In Ep. 1.11 Silence of the Lamb, Veronica discovered that Mac had been switched at birth with Madison Sinclair, causing Mac a certain amount of angst. Veronica would be referring to this incident, which was not given exposition here, as it is not immediately relevant to the plot.  
Weevil lost his bike when he was displaced from the PCHers in Ep 2.12 Rashard and Wallace go to White Castle. He gets a car (which he appears to fix up himself) in Ep 2.19 Nevermind the Buttocks. In between (such as here) it seems likely he would be stuck taking the bus, as described in Chapter 1.  
Veronica gives then-Vice Principal Clemmons a set of keys to his office in Ep. 2.09 My Mother the Fiend. It is later revealed in Ep. 2.13 Ain’t no Magic Mountain High Enough that she had made a duplicate set, which she later used in Ep 2.18 I am God and Ep 2.19 Nevermind the Buttocks. Clemmons doesn’t suspect Veronica has a spare set until after Ep 2.18 I am God.  
Ep 2.18 I Am God, Veronica discussed Peter Ferrer with Mr. Wu, and the last exchange involves Veronica asking if Peter had any hobbies, like drawing, while Mr. Wu calls her out for not really knowing Peter. The events of this novella are intended to give that exchange a more tragic shading, that in a better world Veronica would know more of Peter before he died.  
Ep. 2.19 Nevermind the Buttocks shows Hector in charge of what’s left of the PCHers in Thumper’s absence. Lamb attempting to sweat the PCH lieutenant in Chapter 3 seemed in keeping with Lamb’s character.  
In Ep 1.16 Betty and Veronica, Lianne Mars is pretty clear that on October 3, 2003 (the day of Lilly’s murder per Ep. 1.02 Credit Where Credit’s Due) she met up with Jake Kane at the Neptune Grand (notwithstanding one drunk slip it was a “motel”). Later in the episode we see flashbacks of Jake and Celeste Kane providing their alibis as being at the Neptune Grand, confirming this. Presumably Keith checked with the Neptune Grand staff on the alibis as well.   
Logan acting as a distraction by helping out Madison Sinclair, at Veronica’s behest, comes back to bite Veronica. Logan gets closer to Madison than Veronica would like during the midwinter break of season 3.  
Meryl Carey is not, technically, an original character. She appeared (very) briefly as the unnamed student with a locker next to Meg Manning in Ep. 1.15 Ruskie Business, when she admires the flowers that Meg received from her secret admirer (Duncan).  
Veronica has had a few interactions with the Neptune Grand hotel clerks. In Ep. 1.02 Credit Where Credit’s Due she pretended to have gotten pregnant from a drunken hookup while tracking down the person who used a stolen credit card, getting a list of room charges from a short-haired brunette with a long (but illegible) name on the name tag (she is simply credited as “Reception Clerk”). This is intended to be Stephanie. Twice in Season 3 Veronica speaks with Tina Callis, who first gets introduced to Veronica by Logan, and appears to have a friendly relationship with him in Ep. 3.06 High, Infidelity. She later appears again in Ep 3.13 Postgame Mortem. Since Veronica would go in-and-out of the hotel while dating Duncan in the first half of season 2, she presumably saw the front desk staff enough to start to recognize some of them.  
Ep. 1.08 Like a Virgin showed musical tryouts during Veronica’s junior year, and established the musical that year had been Cabaret.  
Ep. 2.16 Rapes of Graff, Cliff (an attorney) is handcuffed to a headboard at the Neptune Grand – Veronica’s joke that she knows about how the beds can take handcuffs due to “attorney client privilege” refers to this. In another novella by this author, The Secret World of Callie Beck, a plot point involves handcuffing someone to the headboard of a Camelot Motel bed.  
It is Veronica Mars canon that Carrie Bishop and Susan Knight did a duet of “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher during the senior year talent show. Susan dies about a year later.

Non plot-related references and running gags

It was revealed that Mac is a vegan and has a penchant for falafel in Ep 1.11 Silence of the Lamb.  
The fact that Java the Hut “Irish Coffee” is a latte with Irish Crème syrup (and no whisky) is revealed in Ep 3.01 Welcome Wagon.  
Volkswagen’s headquarters, where Dan Woolf’s dad is located, is the German city of Wolfsburg.  
NC State’s sports team is known as the “Wolf Pack.”  
Dan White is the name of the San Francisco Councilman who killed Harvey Milk.  
Veronica’s classmate Lars (TV news anchorman for Neptune High, who managed to avoid the ill-fated Neptune journalism field trip) is repeatedly shown as a bad singer with a yearning for the Java the Hut karaoke stage (Ep. 2.03 Cheatty, Cheatty, Bang, Bang, Ep. 2.12 Rashard and Wallace go to White Castle).  
When Al calls Veronica “Betty” in Chapter 2, this is both a reference to Ep 1.16 Betty and Veronica (where Veronica adopts the name Betty when going undercover at Pan High) and to the Paul Simon song Call me Al.  
The gay bar Possibilities is mentioned in the episode immediately following this novella, Ep 2.18 I am God.  
It is revealed in Ep. 1.21 A Trip to the Dentist, and later in Ep. 1.22 Leave it to Beaver, that Neptune students hide contraband in the air vents, prompting Veronica to look in Danny Woolf’s vent in Chapter 5.  
In Chapter 8 Veronica briefly sees a bellhop named Jeff Ratner, and disregards him as he didn’t know Peter Ferrer. Ratner is a Season 3 recurring character, first appearing in Ep. 3.06 Hi, Infidelity as a Neptune Grand bellhop that Veronica has seen many times, but does not recognize.  
Logan’s Chapter 8 line about “country witticisms” is an Easy Rider quote. The movie is revealed to be Logan’s favorite, which he has subjected numerous girlfriends (including Veronica) to. This is evidenced in Ep. 2.15 The Quick and the Wed (watching with Hannah) and Ep. 2.17 Plan B (Veronica mentions having watched it with Logan the previous summer).  
The Chapter 9 reference to Bye, Bye Birdie (for which Dick Van Dyke won the 1961 Best Actor Tony and reprised his role in the movie) is in keeping with the season 2 theme of Dick Van Dyke musicals - Ep. 2.01 Normal is the Watchword (“Jim Chimory”, Mary Poppins), Ep. 2.03 Cheatty, Cheatty, Bang, Bang (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang).  
Carrie Bishop’s café outfit, worn in Chapter 10, was on display in Ep. 1.21 A Trip to Dentist while she was on duty at the restaurant. The characteristics that Carrie Bishop is a runner whose parents split midway through her sophomore year, and that Susan Knight is outspoken, are mentioned in Ep. 1.15 Mars v. Mars (Carrie is on a champion relay team, Susan is the winner of an extemporaneous speaking competition.)  
Cyrano de Bergerac (1950), the movie on Susan Knight’s TV in Chapter 10, stars Jose Ferrer, and is very much in-keeping with some themes of this novella. Jose Ferrer, presumably no relation to the fictional Peter Ferrer, won an academy award for his performance.  
Miss Mills is the editor of the Neptune literary journal per Ep. 1.09 Drinking the Kool-Aid, consistent with the Chapter 10 reference to the literary journal.  
Dick Casablancas’ appropriation of the Brokeback Mountain line “I wish I knew how to quit you,” is a recurring theme, first appearing in Ep. 2.18 I am God, and used through the Veronica Mars universe.  
A number of other references in this novella were referred to in the Veronica Mars show as well, including Folsom Prison Blues (Ep. 2.16 Rapes of Graff), Donnie Darko (Ep. 1.16 Betty and Veronica), Annie (Ep. 2.22 Not Pictured), Babe (Ep. 1.13 Lord of the Bling), A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (Ep. 2.12 Rashard and Wallace go to White Castle), Hello Dolly! (obliquely, as it’s a Carol Channing reference, Ep. 2.22 Not Pictured), Casablanca (Multiple references, including two main character names), South Park (Multiple references, including an ancillary character name), and Star Wars references, which were legion on the show.

Although not explicit, some other Kindle Worlds books which may relate to this one:

The goth girl who greets Veronica in the halls at the beginning of Chapter 1 is intended to be Sunny Boyd, the client in Sariah Wilson’s cutting and intelligent Kindle Worlds novella The Pastor Always Rings Twice.  
Although Jason Gurley’s excellent Neptune Confidential is somewhat unmoored in time, I expect it occurs sometime around the events of this book. This would be late season 2, after Lamb has won reelection and before Keith may sour on Vinnie Van Lowe after Ep 3.01 Welcome Wagon. The character named Deputy Gurley in Chapter 3 is meant to be a reference to the author.   
As described in the TV show, Veronica has a cordial relationship with Deputy Sacks, who provided the police blotter logs and office scuttlebutt to Veronica in this novella. Some specifics and additional depth to this relationship were explored in Vin DeLoach’s outstanding Chekhov’s Gun. This novella is intended to work either way, as if Checkhov’s Gun took place, or not.


	17. Cover Art

[](https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipOcfdDhpT6cBExD5I3g8YXmgpESbx1C72VfRFIA06ciKid-hvrakC6zj1GJ833FVg?key=dGVzdjh6M1pvblJfYWVyNWQyWmp2MkswM24tcUZR&source=ctrlq.org)


End file.
